The 113th Hunger Games (SYOT)
by pandabear145
Summary: The 113th Hunger Games sees 24 more kids going in for slaughter, but, maybe, this time, the deaths will be a bit more colorful than usual.
1. Pre-Reapings

**Hello guys! This is my first ever fanfic. Criticism welcome, but keep it constructive please. SYOT closed. Of course, this being the 113** **th** **Games, I'm assuming the 2nd Rebellion doesn't occur.**

 **And of course, I do not own the Hunger Games.**

* * *

 **Johnathan Wilford**

 **Head Gamemaker**

* * *

And … it's time to prepare for the games.

Last year's arena, a hot, dry desert, was not a hit at all. In fact, it was an utter failure. The previous Head Gamemaker, Don Wyatt, was executed. I am determined not to do the same.

So what are my options?

I probably should come up with a really good arena for my first year, and gain the favor of Coriolanus Snow Jr. He has just inherited the presidency from his great-great-grandfather, the original Coriolanus Snow, First President of Panem since the start of the Dark Days. Who knows how much he paid to stay alive over 120 years.

I call my team, and we discuss options. After over 2 hours of brainstorming, we have a list of three arenas to choose from.

Of course, there's the forest arena, a really overused idea, but always leads to good games.

Then there's a desert ideas with scattered lakes and stuff. We can drain lakes as we please to force tributes to move around and inevitably run into each other. The only bad thing is that this will inevitably favor those which are armed, because there can only be so many lakes.

Then, there's the most radical idea. An arena, divided into 6 sections like a pinwheel, sort of like the 3rd Quarter Quell. Objects in each section will have a color theme. For example, in the red section there could be maple trees with red leaves that are falling, leaving crunchy leaves in its wake, red berries, and maybe we could throw in a scorpion in a river or lake.

Yeah. The third idea, I've never seen before in 30 years of Hunger Games. The rainbow arena is my pick, and my pick decides it all.

* * *

 **And there's the introduction. SYOT is closed, and tribute names will be revealed as we go along.**

* * *

 **Official Tribute List (Massive Spoilers, skip if you want to be surprised!)**

District 1 Male (tracelynn): **Veneer Walsh, 18**

District 1 Female (maddymellark): **Adelyn-Jade 'Addi' Charme, 17**

District 2 Male (KidF1ash): **Clark Benton, 17**

District 2 Female (I'm The Original Crybaby): **Clarisse O'Hare, 18**

District 3 Male (maddymellark): **Binary Blink, 14**

District 3 Female (pandabear145): **Gene Riemann, 16**

District 4 Male (The United Districts of Panem): **Saipan Blackford, 18**

District 4 Female (ThomasHungerGamesFan): **Valentine Cliffe, 18**

District 5 Male (Mystery-Takes-Its-Tole): **Jasper 'Jaz' Voltize, 14**

District 5 Female (I'm the Original Crybaby): **Pavona McCalistair, 16**

District 6 Male (RubyLeo): **Jackson Valley, 17**

District 6 Female (I Read To Escape The World): **Savera Ford, 13**

District 7 Male (ThomasHungerGamesFan): **Donovan Berkley, 17**

District 7 Female (SatanicGeminiAndAngelicLeo): **Axlynn 'Ax' Birch, 15**

District 8 Male (AKLNxStories): **Toby Amador, 15**

District 8 Female (Mystery-Takes-Its-Tole): **Friska Heathrow, 16**

District 9 Male (AKLNxStories): **Samuel 'Sam' Halifax, 17**

District 9 Female (roses burning): **Tarragon 'Tarra' Amira Daen, 17**

District 10 Male (Maveriqua): **Juno Taurus, 17**

District 10 Female (AKLNxStories): **Elizabella Lovelock, 16**

District 11 Male (ButtonFan20): **Grer Cunningham, 15**

District 11 Female (I'm the Original Crybaby): **Iris Thorn, 14**

District 12 Male (Skyheart033): **Rayne Cannley, 13**

District 12 Female (xQueen-Of-Applesx): **Luna Linwood, 16**


	2. District 1 Reapings: Adelyn & Veneer

**Here's the District 1 Reapings. Thanks to tracelynn for the Male and maddymellark for the Female.**

 **And of course, I do not own the Hunger Games trilogy.**

* * *

 **Veneer Walsh, 18**

 **District 1 Male**

* * *

Aim. Shoot. Reload. Aim. Shoot. Reload. Aim. Shoot. Done.

I relax my bow arm and look at my results. 10 perfect hits, 100 yards out. I look over to the closest academy trainer, who happens to be my dad, Golden Walsh, Victor of the 82nd Hunger Games. Dad grins at me and I mock bow in response.

"Nice job, son. Going to go to the volunteering tryouts tomorrow, I assume?"

"Yes, Sir!"

"You know I have to be impartial during the judging. I guess that's why there are two other trainers. You won't only show your bow and arrow skills, right?"

"I've been practicing spear throwing for _only_ five years running now, you know that. I can get a 10/10 on spear throwing for 100 yards."

"I know, son. I was only teasing. You'll do great. Believe in yourself. Make this old victor proud."

My dad walks off to help other trainees, although in the end I'll crush them all.

"That was impressive," a voice behind me says.

I don't even need to turn around to know who that is.

"Thanks, Brave. I'm looking to win rights to volunteer in about a week. Going all out here."

"But seriously, 10 bulls-eyes in a row is really impressive."

"Wait until I do that and the same with 10 spear throws tomorrow."

"We can't watch each other, you know that."

"Sure, but it doesn't stop us from bragging. You going to volunteer next year, after I'm 19 and out for good?"

"I'm going to try this year too, but I'll probably have a better chance next year. Isn't that what we're all here for?"

Sylvia walks up suddenly, apparently eavesdropping on us.

"Yeah, we're all here to try. I'm 18, and this is my last chance," she says.

"If you can throw a knife through the dummy and make the knife stick on the wall behind it, they'll choose you for sure," Brave speculates.

If only it was that easy, I think. "You're going to show your knife skills, Sylvia?"

"Yep. Throwing and close combat. Knives are good for a lot of stuff."

After talking for a bit more, I wave goodbye and then head home. It's later than usual, an hour after 6 PM, when I usually stop for the day. My entire family, save dad, seems to have already finished dinner, because the house only faintly smells of food. We have plenty of everything. Money, jewels, food. Having a dad for a victor is great.

"Make way, make way, for the Victor of the 113th Hunger Games!" I proclaim as I walk into the living room. Pearl and Tiara, my two younger sisters (16 and 11 respectively), giggle while Kingston, my younger brother (who is 14), laughs uproariously.

"That confident, eh?" Pearl asks. "You still have to go through tryouts, not to mention the Hunger Games.

"Come on, Dad did it when he was only 17. That means I have a better chance than when Dad did."

Tyra, my mom, walks in with what appears to be a feast.

"Here's your 'royal' food, victor-to-be," she says teasingly.

I wolf down my food and then head to bed. I'll need good sleep to do well. It's make or break, with the odds tilted toward the 'the other trainers will not believe what they see tomorrow' than the 'the trainers will be unimpressed' side.

* * *

 **Adelyn-Jade "Addi" Charme, 17**

 **District 1 Female**

* * *

"Adelyn-Jade Charme, please enter the tryout building now."

I strut into the tryout session, flinging back my blond hair, while trying to show off my body as much as possible. I see the eyes of two of the trainers rake over my body. The third, just tells me to start. Of course he did. He's my dad, Christian, who won the 79th Hunger Games at 18. He's trained me hard and strict, and with his help, I'm ready.

I walk to the axe station and chuck the axe into a dummy's heart, and prove it wasn't a lucky shot by a second one to the head. This axe slices the top half of the dummy right off and the axe continues flying another few feet afterwards.

I then chop up a dummy viciously, showing as much skill as possible. After a minute, the dummy is in countless pieces on the ground.

I leave the axe station, batting my painted black eyelashes which compliment my blue eyes. I glance at the clock, and see that I used up about half of the time I have. Perfect.

I grab a mace and bash a dummy's head, crushing its skull. I batter the dummy up, reducing the dummy to a deformed piece of plastic after about 15 swings.

My arms are starting to burn, and I know I should stop before I show weakness. I bow, declare that I am done, and walk out.

Jasper, my 27 year old brother, is by the door, apparently sent to pick me up.

"How'd it go?" He says exasperatedly.

"I think the trainers got a good look at more than just my skill."

"Please, Addi. Show your skill. That's what I did, and I'm here now. I won the Hunger Games 11 years ago, and I still remember what I did, and that's probably what you should do. Frankly, I don't think you'll have much hope the way you're playing this."

"Just watch, Jasper. I'll be the one volunteering, you'll see."

"Let's just go home?"

I consent. They'll be posting the results tomorrow, so no use standing around. The two winners will have the privilege to volunteer three days afterwards.

My family has had a lot of experience with the Hunger Games. My dad, of course, then Jasper, who's the oldest, who won the 102nd Hunger Games. Then Garnet and Silver, 25 and 21, who both tried to volunteer at 18, but neither did for various circumstances.

Silk Charme, now 21, is also a victor, this time the victor of the 109th Hunger Games. So I guess you could say that our family is 3-0 in the Hunger Games, and I plan on making it 4-0 either this year or the next. Silk doesn't like to talk about the Hunger Games much, but she talks to me a lot. Other than when necessary, she's the only sibling who talks to me.

When I get home, and Jasper goes to his own Victor's house, I smell some alcohol and suspect mom's been drinking again. She's really good at hiding it, at least for now, but she's almost definitely hooked by now. She keeps saying that dad doesn't love her and only married her for us.

She's in no condition to cook at any rate, so I just grab some microwave food from the kitchen and chow down. We have so much, considering we have the wealth of a victor three times over. Although we technically have access to three houses, though, Silk likes staying here, and uses her own house for other "purposes" as she puts it.

After lunch, I head out to a small party held by probably my bestest best friend, Emerald Tanzanite. Even though they don't have a victor in the family, as least as far as I know, they're really rich. Emerald gets almost whatever she wants, which makes her house a prime candidate for parties.

Today, we just have a few friends over. When I get to Emerald's house, I notice that I'm the last one there. Tyler Juniper, Emerald's boyfriend and my cousin, is already there and flirting with Emerald. Amber McGraw is reading a book on who knows what for who knows why.

An infinite loop of games follows, until I am worn out and exhausted. I stagger back to the Victor's Village and fall on my bed asleep.

* * *

 **Veneer Walsh, 18**

 **District 1 Male**

* * *

I join the crowd of people waiting to hear the announcement at 9:00 AM of who will get to volunteer for this year's games.

I meet up with Brave, and ask how his session went.

"Knife throwing went well, but I botched things a bit when showing off my sword skills."

"Mine was quick and rather easy, since I've been training for so long. I got 10/10 perfect shots with both spear and bow and arrow, and some close combat with a spear."

One of the trainers, a tall and strong person called Christian walks up to the podium. Everyone goes silent.

"I'm glad to see so many people tryout for the games. There were a total of 233 students this year, and 43 of them tried out this year. As usual, there were many candidates, but we have decided that the pair who will represent District 1 in the 113th Hunger Games will be . . . drum roll please, Veneer Walsh and –"

* * *

 **Adelyn-Jade "Addi" Charme, 17**

 **District 1 Female**

* * *

"Adelyn-Jade Charme!" my father says, followed by an audible *thump*.

The kid, who from my guess is Veneer Walsh, fainted, apparently from excitement, but he immediately gets back up, blushing slightly.

All my training has finally paid off. I'm going to the games.

Several loose friends congratulate me, but the one I care the most for is from my cousin.

"Nice job, Addi."

I smile and hug Tyler.

"You're going to do great out there. With the Charme name, everyone will know you're good. Just don't get killed early, and you'll be back here before you know it."

* * *

 **Veneer Walsh, 18**

 **District 1 Male**

* * *

Once I get home, I'm going to find some ice for my head.

That, frankly, was embarrassing. The District 1 Male, a career, fainting just because he made it.

However, I can't wait to tell my family the news.

I run back home, and run into my mom, Tyra, who apparently was just leaving for her Peacekeeper shift.

"Mom! I did it! I'm going to the Games!"

She just hugs me in response, then notice the bruise.

"What happened to you? Already getting into fights?"

"Uh . . . about that . . . I, uh, sort of, I mean . . ."

"Just say it, Veneer."

"I, uh, fainted when I heard my name."

She laughs a bit.

"That's fine, just ice it and try to not show it at the Reaping."

I can't wait for the Reaping.

* * *

 **Adelyn-Jade "Addi" Charme, 17**

 **District 1 Female**

* * *

I'm eating lunch when my dad finally comes back home.

"You did it Adelyn. You're going to the games."

"Of course I am, dad. Any tips?"

"Don't show off yourself during the session with the Gamemakers, save that for the interview and possibly the parade, depending on what stylist you get. Just focus on showing what you can do in the Gamemaker session."

"I meant, like, in the games themselves."

"You're a career. Usually, 2 and 4 are good allies, but if they seem weak, don't be afraid to reject him or her. Also, you can pick up some strong allies from other districts. Go for the supplies, and during the bloodbath, trust your allies to cover your back. Focus on taking out as many as possible."

"And when the alliance starts to break?"

"As the only mentor who managed to keep two tributes alive in one Games said, 'Stay alive.'"

"Ok."

* * *

 **Veneer Walsh, 18**

 **District 1 Male**

* * *

I decide that a light green shirt studded with a few gems around the collar will go well. It should complement my eyes well. With that, I think a darker shade of green pants will work.

I look in the mirror and decide that this will work for a great first impression for the reaping.

I head downstairs for breakfast. The Reaping is at 8:30 AM, so I have an hour to get ready.

"Ready to volunteer?"

My father smiles at me while mom serves me breakfast. Some beef, with gravy, with some apple slices and a half-potato with butter on it. It looks great.

"This will not even compare to the Capitol food. When you come back, you'll not like mom's cooking anymore."

"No, I'll always like mom's cooking."

I eat my breakfast and head to the District Square.

I see Sylvia and run up to her.

"Hi Sylvia!"

"Hello District 1 volunteer," she says back.

"Well, I didn't exactly dress this way for nothing. Sorry you didn't get to volunteer, although I guess it's for the best, so we won't have to become enemies."

"I'll see you in the Justice Building, after the reaping, right?"

"Oh, I'll be there. See ya!"

* * *

 **Adelyn-Jade "Addi" Charme, 17**

 **District 1 Female**

* * *

I stand just excited, ready to jump out and volunteer. Since the Reapings start here, I guess the games start in about 15 minutes. The one-piece red dress isn't terribly revealing, but I can't say anything. Dad picked this out for me. All in the deal for not showing myself too much. But the glittery red dress certainly makes up for it.

"Ready for this?" I hear Emerald say.

"Yes, and I'm going to crush the competition. I'm not in a family of Victors for nothing."

"I have confidence in you. What's your token?"

I show a gold necklace with several jewels on it.

"One of the jewels breaks in two and reveals a sharp, poisoned, point."

"Ooh, you're going to try to surprise people?"

"Yep. Suppsedly, even the Capitol people can't detect this. Unfortunately, it only works once or twice, since the poison evaporates quickly after its broken."

"Well, good luck." Emerald says, before slipping into the 18 year old girl section.

* * *

 **Johnathan Wilford**

 **Head Gamemaker**

* * *

In only a few moment, the reapings for District 1 will start. District 1 is almost always a volunteer district. Their tributes almost always do well, and one of them won only a few years ago.

I turn on the television, and sure enough, the emblem of District 1, a symbol of a jewel, lights up on the screen.

The District 1 escort goes through all the stuff, the speech, the video, and then, she goes to pick up a name from the female's bowl.

Right when the name slips out of her lips, a 17 year old beautiful girl runs up and volunteers for whoever it was. She called so quickly, I didn't even pick up the name.

"What's your name?" the District escort asks.

"Adelyn-Jade Charme, but call me Addi." the girl responds.

Charme. That was the last name of the girl who won a few years ago, who I was just thinking about.

Sure enough, the commentators pick this up, and say that Silk Charme won the 109th Hunger Games, and then follow that with Jasper Charme and Christian Charme. An entire family of victors. This girl will have a massive advantage in terms of experience.

Adelyn seems like one with a great body, but is wearing a rather modest dress, although it has red glitter all over. Other than that, she looks rather menacing, but behind that seems to be rather care-free.

The District escort goes to the boy's bowl and she actually gets to say the first name, Jet, when a well toned male jumps out and volunteers.

You know when I said the girl was menacing? I take that back. This boy is definitely Hunger Games material. Lots of muscle, and the speed he runs at to the stage is decently fast. He has a face which says he will have no problem killing to win, and he wants to win badly.

His name is apparently Veneer Walsh. The commentators say that another Walsh has won the games before. Golden Walsh, who apparently won the 82nd games.

The two, Veneer and Addi, shake hands, and are escorted into the District 1 Justice Building.

These two have great chances in the games, given their relations and overall preparedness.

* * *

 **Veneer Walsh, 18**

 **District 1 Male**

* * *

My family comes in the door first. Pearl, Kingston, and Tiara just hug me while my parents smile at me proudly.

We already had our talk beforehand, so it's really just a goodbye sendoff, except for my dad, who's going to mentor me.

Soon, the peacekeepers come in and escort them out.

Next, Sylvia and Brave come in.

"You've trained your whole life for this," Sylvia says encouragingly.

"And no matter what happens, we'll be rooting for you," Brave adds. "Do you have a token?"

"Just this diamond bracelet. Nothing special."

We sit in silence until the peacekeepers tell them it's time to go.

There's really no one else who would visit me, so while I sit, I twiddle my thumbs and just contemplate about my district partner. Sure, the Charme name is dangerous in it of itself, but I've trained for practically forever. I don't think she'll be too much of a problem to deal with. Anyway, I think the alliance will hold for a bit.

I'll just have fun in the Capitol while I can.

* * *

 **Adelyn-Jade "Addi" Charme, 17**

 **District 1 Female**

* * *

We've worked it out that Silk will mentor me. Dad and Jasper will come too, though only as victors and not as mentors. Even though she doesn't like to talk about the games, she's the one with the most recent experience, and is closest to me anyway.

My family doesn't even show up, except for Silk. We just talk about what to do, what not to do for the week. Like I've not heard this lecture 10 times already. Play sexy in the interview, and the parade if possible. In training, just intimidate the field, too late to learn new skills. Determine the career alliance. This lecture is getting boring. I'm almost relieved when Silk is taken away, although she will be coming with me into the train.

I hold my necklace, alone.

I can do this.

* * *

 **And there's District 1. I still need a male for District 2. When I get that I'll start writing District 2. The intro will always have the updated list of open tributes.**

 **Now, I have a few questions. _Are these chapters too long? Should I only do Reaping day and not so much backstory? What do you think of the tributes themselves? And for tracelynn and maddymellark, did I present the tributes the way you'd expect or not?_**


	3. District 2 Reapings: Clarrise & Clark

**Here's the District 2 Reapings. KidF1ash submitted the male, and I'm The Original Crybaby submitted the female. Thanks to the two of them!**

* * *

 **Clark Benton, 17**

 **District 2 Male**

* * *

The scythe slices off the head of a dummy, and it rolls onto the ground. Then, the timer goes off. One minute has passed.

I glance at Nick, my best friend and training partner, and see that he might have actually cut off more heads than I have in a minute. We gather the heads and do a 'head'-count.

"I got 37," I tell Nick.

"Oh, come on! I have 35," Nick responds, giving me a playful glare.

"Told you that scythes are faster than swords."

"Try saying that to Mason."

"He doesn't count. He passed the age limit last year."

Mason Stone was supposed to be the male volunteer last year. He was amazing, no, scratch that, incredible with a sword. He did the 1 minute dummy drill with a score of 49, meaning he sliced a head off nearly once per second. The only reason he didn't volunteer was because he was involved in an incident with a peacekeeper and had to go to the hospital with a concussion.

"Whatever," he says. "You're going to try to volunteer this year?"

"Of course. Dad's been training me for, like, forever for this. I could wait for one more year but I don't want to risk anyone getting better than me now."

My Dad, Mike Benton, won the 91st Hunger Games at the age of 16, and that translates to an advantage for me. He recommended learning to wield one unconventional weapon and one conventional one. I chose the scythe and the mace. Sure, maces aren't too common, but there was that one year where that was the only weapon, and as far as I know, that's the only time that happened. There should be maces in the Cornucopia.

Nick does a quick combo that leaves a dummy cut right in half at the waist, and finishes by lopping off the head for good measure.

"Well, Clark, I'm going to head home for the night. I have two shots left to volunteer, and I hope to do well."

"I totally creamed you in the drill today."

Nick only rolls his eyes. "You'll see."

After Nick leaves, my dad approaches me, and points out a few things I can do to perform the 1 minute drill faster. The scythe isn't great for cutting off multiple heads at once, but for what it lacks there, it makes up for its mobility and lightness. I can do two executions in two quick moves just about as fast as Nick does to take a strike strong enough to lop off two heads.

"But 37 is still a good score, especially for an unconventional weapon. You know why I had you choose an unconventional one, right?"

"Of course, dad. To catch people off guard. Almost no one trains against a scythe."

Dad nods, then looks at the time. "The center is closing in a few minutes. Let's go home. You'll need rest for tomorrow."

Mom, who is making pork-chops with a veggie dish on the side, greets me as I come in.

"Hi Clark. Hi hon," she says as she hugs my dad, albeit rather awkwardly, considering she's about 7 months pregnant.

"Clark managed to score a 37 on the 1 minute drill, Beca."

My mom beams at me. "For such a good score, you deserve a dinner, don't you."

"And, it was with a scythe," I add, "not a sword."

"I already know your main weapon isn't a sword," my mom responds.

I decide that today is the day where I will savor each bite, and not just wolf it all down. Mom makes amazing food. The pork-chop is delicious, and just how I like it, with a bit of pink and tender.

"Uh, uh. You gotta eat your vegetables, especially if you want to do well tomorrow."

Ok, not so amazing food, but whatever. I take two celery sticks and 5 carrot sticks, with a healthy amount of dip, and chow down.

My body is saying that I have to get some sleep. I'd better listen to it now. I head upstairs and flop on my bed, dreaming of volunteering.

* * *

 **Clarrise O'Hare, 18**

 **District 2 Female**

* * *

*RRRRRIIIIINNNNNGGGGG*  
*RRRRRIIIIINNNNNGGGGG*

I groan and hit the sleep button on my alarm clock. Why is it set so early? I almost never get up at 7 AM. Even for training, I get up at 8 AM and get to the center at 9 AM.

The _center!_

I jump out of bed and glance at my alarm clock. How does it already read 7:15 AM? I quickly change and head downstairs, flustered and mad with myself. How did I forget?

"Are you _that_ tired?" My sister, twin sister no less, Juno O'Hare, teases me.

"I forgot," I spat, and sat down to eat my breakfast.

"At this rate, you won't be able to get to the center at 7:50 AM for your tryout session."

I don't even answer as I'm busy plowing through my plate, I don't even note what food I'm eating.

I must be the best today. Even better than Juno. It is well known that we are virtually neck and neck, and pretty much accepted that one of us will be volunteering for this year's games. We still have to tryout as a formality.

Juno, by virtue of being "one minute older" than me, she goes in at 7:40 AM, for the second session of the day, and I follow 10 minutes later. The tryouts are in order in age, oldest first.

Somehow, either because she's saying she's going to win so much, or she's just eating slow, I manage to finish first and stick my tongue out at her before jogging off to the center.

I make it at 7:33 AM by the center clock, and Juno arrives 3 minutes later.

"You're eating so slow you can't even beat me here with a head start?"

After recollecting her breath, she shoots back, "I still made it in time."

Right on cue, Eros Gilbarr exits the tryouts, and about 30 seconds later, Juno is called. Right before she enters the tryout, she makes a taunting face at me, and enters before I get a chance to shoot back.

Like I care. I'm going to beat her out.

I mentally go over what is to be expected of me in the tryouts. There's a sequence you must follow.

When you enter, you get in position as quickly as possible, with your primary close combat weapon, and then the 1 minute drill commences. The 1 minute drill is a test of speed, strength, and agility, as dummies are scattered over about 1/2 of the tryout area. Although there are 100 dummies, no one ever has gotten through them all, given how they're spaced, and the sheer number of them. My preferred weapon is the sword, especially the katana, which I seem to do the best at. My personal best is 39, although I average around 35.

Next, you are expected to continue using your first weapon of choice and demonstrate moves you know with it. You may use any remaining dummies for demonstration. You may show brute strength, disarming techniques, combos, etcetera. You have about 3 minutes for this part.

Next, there's the obstacle course, which is mainly speed and agility. You just go though the course _while wielding your primary weapon._ It should not take more than 2 minutes to complete. My best time is 1 minute 4 seconds, but I average about 1 minute 10 seconds.

At this point, you can be done, or you can choose to show ranged combat with your primary weapon, or show a secondary weapon. If you do, you go through the 1 minute drill again, and demonstrate, but only with two minutes. After that, you're done.

Since swords aren't weapons for ranged combat and I don't have a secondary weapon, I can do well with a sword, and don't need one, I'll only need to go up to the obstacle course, and be done. I'm convinced that my katana showing should be able to best Juno's knifes, even though she has ranged and I don't.

My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of my name, and Juno grinning at me. I scowl at her.

I can't afford to go less than 110%.

* * *

 **Clark Benton, 17**

 **District 2 Male**

* * *

I sit outside, waiting for my turn at 8:50 AM. 1 minute left. Might as well start stretching.

"Clark Benton, please enter the tryout room."

Well, so much for stretching. I enter the room. Looking around, I grab the nearest scythe and step on the starting mat and wait for the starting gong.

"Clark Benton, your time starts . . . NOW."

From there, I'm all slicing, running, and slicing some more. I turn, slice, run, slice, but all too soon, the gong rings out again.

I look behind me toward the judges. They only raise their eyebrows, silently commanding me to continue.

I start showing all the skills I have with a scythe. Fake outs, combos, and a few powerful cleaving strikes for good measure. I work through about 20 dummies in various ways. I know my time must almost be up, so I pull my most impressive move, double-faking, ducking, then rolling to the side while cutting the dummy's head off. The entire move took only 3 seconds.

"Very well, Clark Benton. Please proceed to the obstacle course."

It's different every year, but the overall idea is the same. A 10 foot tall wall without any holds, you're expected to be able to jump high enough and pull yourself up, a stepping stone type course, like crossing an icy stream while giving chase, some typical monkey bars, among others.

I just race through. I've trained with all these obstacles before, so I have no problem carrying my scythe as I do so.

I think I finished the course in a respectable time, although only the judges know the exact time.

"Hm. Clark Benton, do you have another weapon to demonstrate?"

"Yes, sir. I can wield a mace."

"Very well. More dummies have been supplied to you. Please begin."

Of course, maces can't cleanly cut off heads, so they count by smashing faces in with maces. This one is a bit tricky to measure as you have to achieve a certain amount of indentation for the strike to count. I don't remember exactly how much it is, but I just have to swing as hard as possible to make sure I surpass that mark, each and every time.

I start bashing, going to the next dummy, and repeat as many times as possible. I estimate I've gone through about 35 dummies when the gong rings, and I stop.

Some helpers collect the dummies and measure them while I demonstrate my skill with a mace. It's not bad, but it's not great, as the scythe is my preferred weapon, but I know plenty of moves while wielding a mace.

After I'm done, I bow, and walk out, and see Nick.

"Hey Nick! Going next?"

"Yeah, and I hope to beat that 35 I got yesterday, as well as whatever score you got," he smirks.

"Oh, come on. I'm totally going to beat you," I smirk back.

He just smiles as his name is called. He walks in.

I'll get the results tomorrow, along with who gets to volunteer.

* * *

 **Clarrise O'Hare, 18**

 **District 2 Female**

* * *

As I walk out, I notice Carla Artimes waiting to go in.

We have an interesting relationship, in that we're sort of friends, but we compete so much and send each other so many glares and faces you'd think we're enemies. I send her a sort of a bragging smile at me, which she returns with a scowl. Carla's name is called, and she goes in.

She doesn't have a chance against me though. Hopefully, neither does Juno.

Since the results come out tomorrow, I can do whatever for the rest of the day. Maybe it would be worthwhile to just spend some time with my two good friends, Richelle Candor, who is essentially my best friend ever, and Andrea Hoard, my best friend from the training center. She's scheduled for 9:10 AM, though, and that's more than an hour away, and it would probably be best to not talk to her before. Richelle, who's 19 though and ineligible for the games, though, I can visit. She tried to volunteer last year and the year before, but was beaten out both times.

Her house is only a 15 minute walk from the training center, so I decide to drop by.

Once I get there, I ring the doorbell, and Richelle answers.

"Hi, Richelle!"

"Oh, hey Clarrise! I assume you just finished your tryout session?"

"Yeah, and I think my katana showing will destroy my twin's knives.

"I hope so, it would be so exciting for you to go to the games. Imagine, your life dream fulfilled . . ."

"We'll see tomorrow. What do you want to do?"

"This is my house, it's your choice!" She excitedly says, probably ready for any crazy idea I have.

Hmm . . . this could get interesting.

"I think," I say, "we should play some foosball, loser does 100 pushups. First to 10."

"Oh, you're sooooooo on. You'll be on the ground before you know it."

We head over to the game room, and start playing.

Several minutes later, we were tied, 9-9, and we've been going at the last point for a long time. I half-glare at Richelle, while remaining focused on the table, and when she looks up momentarily, she gets startled by my glare, distracting her, which allows me to score.

"Ha! My 'death glare' worked, didn't it."

"Uh, no, it didn't!"

"I totally saw you jump slightly when you looked up. 100 pushups."

She groans. "I'm not in the training center anymore, I doubt I can do 20 now."

"Oh, fine, but only because you're my best friend, like, ever."

She gets to 20, but clearly starts to have troubles after only 10.

I grin, and do 50 pushups off the bat.

"Oh, whatever. What now?"

We're going to have a great time.

* * *

 **Clark Benton, 17**

 **District 2 Male**

* * *

"How'd tryouts go?" a very familiar voice says behind me.

I smile and turn around. Kelly Thompson, my girlfriend for a few months now, is looking expectantly with those irresistable brown eyes.

"I really don't know. We'll see tomorrow, right?"

She gives me a peck on the cheek, obviously consenting. She starts running her hand over my back. She likes all the scars I have on my back, for a reason that's not 'shows how hard I'm working' but rather she thinks they're beautiful.

She brushes my brown hair and sighs.

"If you do go, please come back for me, ok?"

"I will."

Kelly, with a smile, leaves, and I decide to just go home, even though it's only 3. I'm too anxious for the results, I guess.

* * *

 **Clarrise O'Hare, 18**

 **District 2 Female**

* * *

After a fun several hours, I head home for dinner, a bit exhausted.

"Where were you?" Juno asks me.

"Over at Richelle's." All of a sudden, I realize that I meant to get Andrea after her tryout was over, but in all the fun I forgot.

"Just having fun and passing the time for tomorrow? Because you know I'll get to volunteer."

"No way. I'm going up on the stage."

Juno seems ready to retort, but then I notice that Neptune, my 26 older brother, is rolling his eyes at us, Annabeth, my 14 year old younger sister, is plugging her ears, and Eristelle, my 22 year old older sister, seems ready to scream. All of this happened after only a few short exchanges, and Juno and I both take this as a cue to stop.

We silently eat our dinner, and then Juno and I go to bed, exited for tomorrow.

* * *

 **Clark Benton, 17**

 **District 2 Male**

* * *

I'm out of bed and out the door in less than 15 minutes today, excited that I might be chosen to volunteer. All I hear out the door is my dad saying something along the lines of 'I'm early.'

I don't care. That means I get to be closer to the front of the stage if my name is announced.

Nearly equally early, Nick comes in and stands next to me.

"Ready to see who won?"

"Of course, but I have a good idea who's going to be picked, and I think it starts with C-l-a-r-k," grinning.

Nick just smiles and waits.

Painstakingly slowly, everyone else files in. And at precisely 9:30 AM, my dad steps up to the microphone.

"Hello all, today we're here to learn who will represent District 2 in the 113th Hunger Games! We had many fine submissions, and it was, as usual, tough to pick, especially the girl tribute."

A lot of eyes turn to the twin pair, Clarrise and Juno. No doubt one of them got the spot, question is which.

"For the girl tribute . . . a score of 40 on the 1 minute drill, and a 1 minute 6.29 seconds on the obstacle course, our female representative is Clarrise O'Hare!"

One of the girls, who I assume is Clarrise, jumps up and makes a face while the other, most likely Juno, makes a pouting face and shoves Clarrise.

Clarrise walks up to the stage and my dad shakes her hand.

"And our male tribute . . . with a score of 43 on the 1 minute drill with the primary weapon, which I should mention is the best score in tryouts in 6 years, completing the obstacle course in 1 minute 4.92 seconds, and a score of 35 with the secondary weapon, our male tribute is Clark Benton!"

This is unreal. I'm actually going into the games.

I jump up onto the stage, skipping the steps entirely, and shake my father's hand. He smiles at me, obviously proud.

"Full scores and results are in the back. Thank you all for coming."

* * *

 **Clarrise O'Hare, 18**

 **District 2 Female**

* * *

I must be in heaven.

I beat my sister. I actually did it. _Of course, I never doubted it_ , I tell myself.

The few days until the reaping are a blur to me. I remember Richelle and Andrea coming over multiple times, not only to give congratulations (and to spite my sister) but also just for fun. I vaguely remember picking out a grey dress and a small patch that can be applied on clothing for my token, I think it was a stone, representing District 2.

But finally, it's the day of the reaping. I get up, put on my reaping outfit and take the patch with me. I don't apply it, I'll wait for the arena to put it on my uniform or whatever I see fit.

I head downstairs for breakfast. The reaping is at 9:00 AM, and I'd better not be late, or I won't get to go. Juno isn't here for breakfast yet, but she will soon. She probably just doesn't want to cross paths with me.

I hug my mom and dad before I head out to the District Square. We happen to live very close to it, only 5 minutes away, but I'm so excited I want to be early anyway.

As it turns out, maybe only 25 people are here in the square 90 minutes early. I check in and head to the 18 year old girls section, where I just chill for a while.

* * *

 **Clark Benton, 17**

 **District 2 Male**

* * *

I sign in and walk to the 17 year old boys area. I'm about a half hour early, but the crowd is already starting to form. I look to see if Nick is here, and he is. I head over to him.

"Ready to volunteer?"

"I'm totally ready. Reaping outfit, token, everything. I just can't believe I'm here ready to volunteer."

"Do well in there. What do you plan on doing in the training center?"

"You know, funny you should ask. We all know that Districts 1, 2, and 4 tend to show off during the training sessions, but I want to learn something new, maybe survival skills, which they don't have here. Maybe I'll be viewed as strange, but hey, who knows we'll be thrown into."

"Maybe somewhere over the rainbow," he says cheekily.

After that, we just wait for our district escort to come up, and start the ball rolling.

* * *

 **Johnathan Wilford**

 **Head Gamemaker**

* * *

After I finish mulling over the District 1 tributes, and given that I did this every year for the past 10 or so years, my thoughts and initial odds come as naturally to me as eating, I look up and see that District 2 has already started. Good thing, though, I only missed a minute or so of the reaping video.

After that's finished, the escort, Amon, reaches into the girls ball, and makes a great show of swirling the names around, starts to draw a name and then drops it, and does this for half a minute, which is definitely way too excessive, and then decides on a name and calls out Andrea Hoard.

Surprisingly, two girls in the crowd of kids seem stunned, one in the 17 year old section and one in the 18 year old, before the 18 year old shouts out, "I volunteer!"

The 17 year old, who I guess is Andrea, relaxes while a confident girl strolls to the stage, like its a walk to the park.

"Your name?" Amon asks.

"Clarrise O'Hare."

Amon nods, and proclaims her as the District 2 Female tribute, then proceeds to the boys ball, which takes as painstakingly long as the girls' ball.

Just like the girl from 1, Amon doesn't even get to say the name clearly before a 17 year old boy jumps out to volunteer. All I could tell is that the reaped boy had a name on the lines of 'Dominus', or maybe 'Domitius'.

"And your name?"

"My name is Clark Benton, and I am 17."

"We have our tributes for District 2, Clarrise O'Hare and Clark Benton!" Amon says seemingly excitedly, but under that I can tell that Amon is bored for having tributes volunteer every year for what may as well be forever. I think Amon would be more excited of one of the tributes was reaped without volunteering.

As usual with volunteers, they're ready for the Hunger Games, both of them strong but are probably fast and agile, something I see a lot in District 2 tributes. It's fairly obvious that volunteers from 1, 2, and 4 have trained, but no one tries to stop them because the Career alliance is usually one of the best alliances and we see a lot of bloodshed from them, and it plays with the odds too. Essentially, the volunteers training beforehand makes the games fun, so even though it's illegal, it is never stopped.

* * *

 **Clarrise O'Hare, 18**

 **District 2 Female**

* * *

I'm not expecting anyone, as I said all my goodbyes already. So I'm definitely surprised when Juno comes up.

"Oh, you're coming so I can rub in my victory?"

She rolls her eyes.

"I'm here to tell you about the District 1 tributes, which I watched right before coming, given we live so close to the Square. They're Veneer Walsh and Adelyn-Jade Charme, and both have victors as relatives and are trained themselves. You can watch the reapings yourself but I thought I would tell you now. They should definitely be in the alliance."

"Got it, thanks, I guess."

Juno walks out, not even needing a peacekeeper escort.

I think about Clark for a bit. I remember reading on the sheet on the announcement day that Clark prefers the scythe, for some odd reason. There will not always be scythes, but apparently he's great with them, getting, what, 43 or something with it?

I guess that's why he also has a mace, as they're more common, although still not guaranteed to be in. He seems to be a smart one, and a dangerous person as far as I can tell, and he seems to want to win more than anything, of course we all do, but, still, I'm not sure if I can trust him a lot, yet. I'll need to keep an eye on him especially when about half the field is gone. As for District 1, I'll think about them when I get on the train and see them on the replay. I'm not going to reply to letters from death. I'm going to say no every time.

* * *

 **Clark Benton, 17**

 **District 2 Male**

* * *

I'm really only expecting a goodbye from Kelly, because it's usual for tributes to say their goodbyes beforehand, but Kelly's been occupied with something so I couldn't say goodbye to her before the reapings.

As expected, Kelly walks in and hugs me, kissing me right on the cheek.

"You'll come back for me, right?"

"You already asked this question. Of course I'll come back for you."

"I just wanted to hear it from you again," she smiles.

Apparently she can't think of anything to say, so we just hug until peacekeepers tell Kelly that it's time for her to go. Kelly gives me one last kiss before she walks out.

If I'm not winning for my family, and my dad who will mentor me, it's for Kelly.

* * *

 **There's District 2. Sorry for this taking a while, I had stuff to do all day for the past three days. But here's this chapter. We still need 6 tributes, especially a District 3 Female so I can start the next chapter.**

 _ **Thoughts on Clark or Clarrise? How well do you think they'll do? Are they too confident? And for KidF1ash and I'm The Original Crybaby, did I do a good job with the presentation?**_


	4. District 3 Reapings: Gene & Binary

**Here's the District 3 Reapings. Because I never received a District 3 Female, I came up with one myself. maddymellark sent the Male.**

* * *

 **Binary Blink, 14**

 **District 3 Male**

* * *

 _About what percent of the Earth's atmosphere is composed of: a) Nitrogen, b) Oxygen, c) Argon, d) Other gasses?_

Nitrogen composes 78% of the atmosphere, Oxygen, 21%, Argon, 0.9%, and everything else is 0.1%. I write the answers down and put down my pencil, finished with the Science math test. I walk up and hand my test in. Right behind me, Digit hands his test in too.

As we're done almost a half-hour early, Digit and I walk out of the classroom and into the library. We just sit next to each other for a while and wait for the bell to ring, signalling the end of the day.

As we walk out, Digit asks me what I thought of the tests today.

"Not really hard. Spelling, maybe, the rest is fine. PE's tomorrow though, which I will probably flunk."

We walk in silence until we have to split up. Him to his house, me to the orphanage. My mom died having me, and dad left for some reason before I was born.

When I get to the orphanage, all the books I'm carrying are getting increasingly difficult to hold, and my arms are going to give out at any moment. I find my room and collapse. Tomorrow's the last day of school, just the PE exam and a small end of the year party after that.

I decide to just dose until dinner is ready.

When we're called for dinner, I get up, wash my face and hands, and push some of my messy brown hair from my grey eyes and glasses. I walk over to the dining room, with kids trickling in.

A lot of the kids here are solitary, so even though there are several kids at my table, no one talks. We just eat mashed potatoes with gravy and broccoli.

I eat my share and put away my dishes and silverware, and head back to my room. It isn't big, just a single bed, a sink, a small closet, and a trash can. No bathrooms, they're public restrooms.

I'm grabbing my pajamas when I realize something. The Reaping. It's in three days.

The orphanage is descent enough to provide one set of nice clothes to everyone, and they are different, so it's not like during the Reaping you can easily tell who's from the orphanage by their clothes. I just need to keep my Reaping clothes clean until then. Laundry is every five days, so if I wear it, the clothes will be soiled during the Reaping.

I'm 14 now, which means I have my name in three times. The orphanage does provide some food, only two meals a day though, breakfast and dinner. The food is enough to live on so I don't need to take out any tessare for myself.

I think that if I'm going to have any chance to not flunk PE tomorrow, I'd better get some sleep now.

Reaping is in two days now.

* * *

 **Gene Riemann, 16**

 **District 3 Female**

* * *

I get up excitedly, put on some clothes and go downstairs. Today's the last day of school, and there are going to be games and a bit of free food at school today, courtesy of Del, one of our victors. She gives out some food every year at the last day of school.

When I get downstairs, I realize that while I thought I was early getting up, my 12 year old sister, Diena, beat me to it, and is finishing her breakfast already by drinking down her cup of milk. I hear my parents talking in the kitchen. They've been considering adopting someone for a bit, since my mom became infertile after an unfortunate accident involving a kitchen knife. They've talked to me and my sister about it, and we're both ok with it, and neither of us care if we get a boy or a girl.

Everyone pronounces my little sister's name wrong. My dad named both me and my sister for things that were related somewhat to his job, a DNA engineer. Most people pronounce Diena as 'Die-an-ah' but it's really just 'D-N-A,' although sometimes we call her 'D' for short.

Diena just grins at me when I come down.

"Ha, Gene! I finally beat you!"

"And I thought I was early, D," I grin, sitting down. I start to attack my waffle.

"Excited for today?" I ask Diena.

"Yeah, we're going to be able to take home luxury food, like cake and candy . . ."

I laugh and promptly almost choke on my waffle. Once I stop coughing I give a half-hearted glare at my sister.

School doesn't start until 9, and it's only about 8 right now. Just goes to show how excited we are.

I pull out our checker set, and we play some to pass time. I usually beat Diena, but maybe a fifth of the time we have a draw and occasionally Diena beats me. But while we play, I win 6 times, and draw once.

After that, we head to school. Our school teaches 1st through 12th. The 1st graders and 2nd graders only need to run a quarter-mile, the 3rd and 4th graders half-mile, and from 5th grade on a full mile. This is because the young kids typically don't have great endurance.

We stand outside the gym, and at 9:00 exactly, the 1st graders are called in for their PE test.

The PE test goals are as follows: at the start of the school year, measurements of students' time to run whatever distance their grade requires, and for 5th graders and above, push-ups as well. Then, at the end of the school year, you're expected to have cut your running time by 10%, and increased the amount of push-ups by 10%.

I did the mile run in 7 minutes, 10 seconds, running in an average of 8.4 mph, and did 72 push-ups. I don't know what my expected times are, as I can't do this kind of math in my head, but I think my goals will be about 6 minutes 30 seconds, and about 80 push-ups, but I know that I can absolutely cream both.

I sit down and wait for the 11th grade to be called.

* * *

 **Binary Blink, 14**

 **District 3 Male**

* * *

 _"8th graders, please come into the gym."_

I sigh, and go in. The gym's pretty big, and the thing I'll be using today is the quarter-mile race track.

I glance at the chart as I go in, although I remember my beginning of the year results. 12 minutes, 34 seconds was my time (a bit less than 5 mph), and I managed 17 pushups. So my goals now are 11 minutes, 18 seconds, and 19 pushups.

We go in groups of roughly 10, so the track doesn't crowd too much. There's 38 students, so there will be 4 groups, consisting of two 9 people groups and two 10 people groups.

I end up going in the 3rd group, which has 9 people in it.

 _"On your mark, get set, GO!"_

Almost immediately, I fall way behind. By the first lap, I already want to give up, but there are three more.

After an eternity of huffing and pushing and trying not to fall over, I finish the fourth lap and promptly collapse. I was the last one to finish.

The instructor frowns at my time. Not good.

We get some time to catch our breath before pushups start. How this works is we do pushups at the same time on the instructor's mark, and if we can't do a pushup in a timely manner or collapse, we're considered done.

I don't know how many pushups I do, but considering how badly I probably did on running, I'd better at least try to hit my goal.

I force myself to hit 20 before I call it quits. I don't think I'll be able to carry anything for a while, though.

Digit is in much better shape than me, in addition to being smart, he does push-ups up to about 50, and he probably did descent in the mile run.

When the last 8th grader stops at 92 pushups, which is absolutely crazy, we're dismissed from the gym.

At 12, we're going to have probably the best food for the whole year.

* * *

 **Gene Riemann, 16**

 **District 3 Female**

* * *

I exit the gym at about 11:35, a bit before the noon party. I start jogging toward the cafetaria, as I can still run even though my arms are beat for the moment.

I see someone enter the cafetaria just as I get into view of it, and wonder who it is. When I enter, I notice Del slipping into the kitchen, no doubt helping get all the food in.

He's probably the only victor we have who hasn't succumbed to mental illness or drinking or whatever, and we appreciate his generous gift to all of us.

Every year he congratulates us on our academic abilities and shares some of the stories he has before he got reaped. He doesn't like to talk about the games or much of anything after that, but he can talk practically forever, in a way I don't care too much of, about almost any academic subject.

I fine Diena, sit next to her, and ask how PE went.

"I think I did ok, and I got to 30 pushups for the first time!" she exclaims proudly.

"I got to 100 for the first time," I counter.

Diena just sticks her tounge out at me, and then the noon bell rings, and Del steps up to the microphone.

"Hello students, and congratulations for finishing another year of productive school, and of course, this is cause for celebration. For some of you, each year is a challenge, but you're here, alive and well. I know some of you don't see the use for education, but, believe me, it's completely worth it. . ."

Del then goes on to announce some statistics, the amount of straight A's, which I'll never achieve, the average overal grade, which is always at least 85%; I've never seen it lower, and breakdowns for each grade and gender.

"I know a lot of you are here for the food I've provided for all of you, and I'm done talking -"

Del gets cut off with sounds of cheering and sounds of getting up to the buffet.

"Just stay orderly, please. There's enough for everyone."

I get up with my sister, and get in line.

"We're going to meet our new sibling today, right?" my sister asks.

"I believe so. And D, we want to make him or her feel welcome in our family, ok?"

"Ok."

* * *

 **Binary Blink, 14**

 **District 3 Male**

* * *

I walk back to the orphanage after the richest food in an year. I always try to eat something different each year, and every time I always eat my favorites, for I could never eat it all. I could have gone to the playground after the food, but I'm so stuffed it doesn't seem worthwhile to get a tummyache over it.

I find my room, only to find one of the staff cleaning up all my stuff and putting them into various bags.

"What's going on?"

"Oh, Binary. I thought you would be at school."

"I got full and came back."

"Well, I might as well tell you now. Someone has decided to adopt you!"

I stare at him with what must be a crazy expression on my face. I stutter to find words. I thought no one wanted me. Ever. Usually kids are adopted within a few months of ending up here, but the few of us who don't usually are stuck here until 18, where we then are 'released' (think 'kicked out') into the world. As I've been here my entire life, I've all but given hope. Until now.

"They . . . er . . . I mean . . . who?"

"Why don't I introduce you to them myself?"

Still in shock, I numbly walk to the lobby of the orphanage with the staff member.

When I get there, the only people I see are are couple, both mabye in their late 20's to early 30's.

"They are your new parents: Sparc and Gadge Riemann."

The couple smiles at me, and I know that I've found a new family.

* * *

 **Gene Riemann, 16**

 **District 3 Female**

* * *

After Diena and I stuffed ourselves silly, we head home, rather excited to meet our new sibling, whoever the person is.

"Do you think," I say, "we're going to get a boy or another girl?"

"I want a boy, so I can see if all the rumors of brothers being annoying are true. However, I think we're probably getting a new sister."

"Wait, that doesn't make sense," I say, confused, "I mean the first part.

"I don't care, I want one anyway," my sister says. "Can you answer your own question?"

"No, that's why I asked you."

Diena frowns at me, but says nothing.

When I ring the doorbell (well, actually, Diena raced ahead of me to ring the doorbell), I hear some quiet noises on the other side, then, my mom opens the door with a huge smile on her face, that I'm sure it's larger what they call the United States in history class.

"Gene, Diena, your new brother is here. His name is Binary."

When I actually enter our house, I see a somewhat small boy, maybe just under 5 feet, with brown, curly hair and bottle-neck glasses. He looks like a person who's smart, and does well in school, and although that's the opposite of me, I don't think I'll mind too much.

We all sit down in the living room, and an awkward silence fills the air, as well as silence can.

"Uh, you're Gene," Binary says, pointing at me, "and you're Diena?" getting it right, while slightly grinning her name. Probably, mom told him the correct pronounciation before we got here.

"That's right. I'm 16, and D's 12."

"Hey," my sister interjects, "I wanted to tell him my nickname."

I roll my eyes at her.

"Well, I'm 14 years old, and going to turn 15 in about a month."

I start to tell him about me and Diena, and try to get some information from him, but he's not offering much. He's pretty shy. Oh, well. We have many years to get to know him. He looks comfortable here, though.

* * *

 **Binary Blink, 14**

 **District 3 Male**

* * *

Gene and Diena are pretty nice, but they seem to try to know me a bit more than I'm willing to at the moment. I probably will, later, maybe in a few days, but now, I just want to get settled in.

Although I've put all my bags up in my new room, very spacious room by the way, I've yet to fully unpack, so I excuse myself to do so.

Their house is pretty big, either the mom or dad has a good job to afford this kind of a house.

When I really start settling into my room, I realize just how little stuff I have, compared to this enormous room. All the clothes I have take up only about a quarter of the closet space, and I didn't have much else other than that.

"If you need something for your room, I'd be happy to get some for you," I hear a voice behind me say.

I turn around, and see Mrs. Riemann.

"I don't know what I would do with more stuff, Mrs. Riemann."

"Please, just call me mom, we've been through this already."

I sigh. It's a bit weird calling someone I just met today 'mom,' but I guess it will happen sooner or later.

I see Diena coming up behind Mrs - ah - mom. Diena looks into my room and I blush slightly. She probably has a lot more stuff in my room.

"How can you stand having so little - AHH!" she suddenly stops when Mrs, I mean, mom, grabs her hair and pulls slightly. She whispers something into her ear which obviously changes her demeanor.

"You can come in my room whenever you want, aside from when I'm changing and whatnot, if you get bored. Gene too, I think," she smiles at me.

"Uh, thanks, but I think I'll stay in here for now."

"Oh, come on! There's stuff to see, things to do. You've lived in an orphanage for so long - OW!"

Mom glares at her.

"It's alright, mom," I half force out, "I can take it. I've been called stuff like this forever, I'm used to it."

"And it's going to stop now," mom says.

* * *

 **Gene Riemann, 16**

 **District 3 Female**

* * *

The rest of the day, and all of the next are mainly getting Binary used to living with more money than he's probably even dreamt of. By the evening of his second day here, though, he's more or less settled in and is pretty comfortable. He's opened up a bit more, and learned checkers, and is already beating even me regularly. Must be the brain he has.

The day after that is the Reaping.

I'm sort of saddened by the fact that it's possible that our family may be torn apart with one name call, but I force the idea out of my mind. We've never needed tessare, and Binary has said he's never taken tessare either, as he's used to running on little food.

For now, though, I'm going to have a little fun. Because I always wake up early on reaping day, I grab the whoopee cusion we have stashed for pranks, and put it on the chair that Binary has sat on for all the meals he has had, no reason he's going to switch.

Unfortunately, the plan backfires when Diena comes down sleepily and without thinking, sits down on the wrong chair.

 _*PPRMPHT*  
_

Diena jumps up, suddenly attentive, while I laugh. Diena glares at me, and I give an innocent smile.

"That was meant for Binary. That is his chair."

Diena looks at the chair, and then at the dining table, and then realizes her mistake. Blushing slightly, she sits down on her seat, as we wait for breakfast, the table already been made.

Binary comes down in a surprisingly nice white shirt and pants, which I guess was from the orphanage for reaping clothes.

"Hi Binary, just sit down and breakfast will be out shortly," I say, stifling a laugh.

Binary, who apparently is very naive, walks over and sits on his chair.

 _*PPRMPHT*_

Diena and I immediately burst out laughing, while he frowns, gets back up, and looks at his seat. He scowls, but seems to be trying to hide a smile himself. He just sets the whoopee cushion on mom's seat.

This is going to be an eventful breakfast.

* * *

 **Binary Blink, 14**

 **District 3 Male**

* * *

After the most eventful breakfast I've ever had, we head out to the square. The reaping is at 8:30.

Gene and Diena talk to me a bit, and I feel myself opening to them, while they might not be at the place where we would be 'siblings,' we probably will be after a few months or so.

Gene, surprisingly, doesn't like academics a whole lot, unlike a lot of District 3. She prefers the athletics side, which reminds me of my dismal performance in PE, which I tell Gene, who just laughs.

"There are some 11th graders like that. Probably some in all the grades."

That makes me feel a bit better. Diena likes athletics too, but also academics.

We get to the square, where we're forced to separate, Gene and Diena to the girl's side, me to the boy's side.

In the 14 year old crowd, I manage to find Digit. Or, rather, he managed to find me.

"Hey, Binary. I hear you got adopted, finally?"

"Uh, yeah, how'd you know?"

"I went to the orphanage yesterday to find you, only to be told you've been adopted. So who was it?"

"The Riemann's."

"I haven't heard about them."

"Me neither, two days ago."

Then, the District escort, Klea, steps up to the microphone, and starts all the rabble of the welcome, past victors, and only Del is coherent enough to stand up, and the video.

 _"As always, ladies first!"_

After ruffling the names around, she picks a name, and I star to think that there's no girls I care about when I hear the name.

Gene Riemann.

* * *

 **Gene Riemann, 16**

 **District 3 Female**

* * *

I gasp, and I strain to hold a strangled cry from my mouth. Not me, I was just getting to know a new brother. I had a future, and now the Capitol is taking it away from me. But, better, I guess, to get this over with. I steel myself, and walk up to the stage, reminding myself to keep collected. I can cry all I want on the train. Just hold it for an hour or so.

Klea asks for volunteers, but of course there are none, there rarely ever is. I see Diena silently crying in her 12 year old section, and Binary, while not crying, is clearly upset.

Klea heads over to the boy's bowl, but I'm not paying attention.

A name is called, but I miss it entirely. Things can't be worse than they already are. My future is already gone.

But not until I see Binary next to me on stage.

* * *

 **Binary Blink, 14**

 **District 3 Male**

* * *

 _How can I be this unlucky_ , I think as I'm escorted on stage.

 _I was just starting a new life, and now me and my effective sister are going together to get slaughtered._

I look up, and Gene seems to be too concentrated on not crying, but doesn't look convincing. When she sees me onstage, she starts sniffling uncontrollably. I don't blame her, but I've got experience with heartbreak, a lot of families talking to me and considering me, but end up choosing someone else. And now, when I'm finally chosen, I'm ripped away.

 _"Binary and Gene, our District 3 Tributes!"_

Afterwards, Gene and I are escorted into different rooms. Gene seems to try to convince the Peacekeepers to put us in the same rooms, but they won't listen.

Digit comes in first. I guess my family is visiting Gene first. I can't blame them, for one, Digit is here, two, Gene is truly related to them.

But, instead of comforting words, Digit seems to have constructed a strategy for me already.

"Look, Binary. For someone in a non-Career District, you're already at an advantage. You're going to ally with Gene, right? She is technically your sister now."

I just nod, and Digit continues.

"You can't run to save your life. You can try to get faster, but at this stage you won't be able to do that quickly enough. So I'd suggest survival skills for you, and stay hidden. Do you know what Gene is good at?"

"She's fast and strong," I say neutrally.

"Then let her protect you. Suggest to her that she learn to wield some weapon, maybe a knife, since those are sometimes placed closer to the edge and she can grab one relatively risk free. You, just get out of the cornucopia as quickly as you can. And don't forget to agree with Gene on where you want to go."

Digit clearly has more in his mind, but the Peacekeepers are already coming in. Digit pats me on the back, and then is escorted out.

Next, Mr. Riemann and Mrs. Riemann, along with Diena, come in. Diena is already crying, probably from being with Gene for what may be the last time, and Mr. Riemann and Mrs. Riemann are wearing sad looks on their faces.

"Look, follow your instincts in the arena and don't do anything too risky. Work together with your sister -"

Oh, right. It's mom and dad, not Mr., Mrs. Riemann.

"- and have one person awake at all times. Other than that, I can't help you much. I'll try to pool some money for you two," mom says.

I only blankly nod, then ask, "Did you tell Gene this?"

"Yes, but you'll get to talk more on the train."

Then the peacekeepers come in, and then my newfound family goes out.

* * *

 **Johnathan Wilford**

 **Head Gamemaker**

* * *

That was certainly an interesting reaping. The two, Gene and Binary, aren't siblings, yet Gene seemed to break down even more than what she was already trying to hide, which I admit, wasn't a very good job, when Binary went up.

Binary is not strong or fast, by his looks. I don't know what else he can do, but Gene is clearly a strong person, and fast too, probably, which is uncommon from District 3.

Although, compared to District 1 or 2, she might be a white, fluffy, bunny.

I already see the second alliance coming, between these two. If I had to guess, they're probably friends, and will ride the alliance out as far as possible.

I jot all my thoughts down on my notepad just as the District 4 symbol pops up on the screen.

* * *

 **I bet very few of you guys were expecting this turnout (Binary getting adopted) until towards the middle, when I dropped the bombshell and revealed it all. I guess some of you caught the tiny hints I put in the beginning, though. In other news, we need only 4 more tributes, the girls from 8 and 9, and the boys from 10 and 12. Thanks to all who submitted tributes, and especially AKLNxStories for submitting three tributes recently to fill up some slots. Her own fanfic, Elements, is a great one, and you should all go read it if you haven't already.**

 **Now for my questions. _Should I include this much backstory? How do you like Gene and/or Binary? How successful will they be together? And for maddymellark, I know I added stuff to your tribute, so it's probably not what you expected, but how was Binary otherwise?_**


	5. District 4 Reapings: Valentine & Saipan

**Sorry this took a while, I had a bit of writer's block on District 4, the last career district, and spent some time betaing my other chapters and just fixed some typoes in them, but I think I did ok. Hope you guys like it. :) We now have all the tributes, check the intro for all the details! :D Thanks to The United Districts of Panem for the male and ThomasHungerGamesFan for the female.**

* * *

 **Saipan Blackford, 18**

 **District 4 Male**

* * *

I hear a voice, saying ' _Get up, son . . . '_ before the voice fades away. I roll over and ignore it.

 _'Son, get up, today's the first round of tryouts.'_

Wait, what?

Startled, I open my eyes to see my dad, Marsh, slightly smiling at me.

"You'd better get up, now. You have to be at the training center at 8:30."

I glance at the clock in my room, and notice that it's 7:42, a bit later than when I usually get up.

I climb out of bed and head into the kitchen, to see food already laid out.

Dad ate already, because he has to go to the training center early today, and my older brother, Kona, apparently already left for the docks. I'm about to eat when my mother reprimands me.

"Uh-uh, wash up first."

Darn it. I don't like washing up, while that might be immature for my age. Anyway, we're surrounded by water, so we get washed naturally, right?

I head to the bathroom, wash my face, taking care not to get any soap suds into my brown eyes, and brush my brownish black hair and comb it neatly. I wash my hands thoroughly, and then dive into my food. Typical stuff today, some fish meat with seaweed and cabbage, with some water. Not fancy, but I like seafood. Then again, so does everyone. Cabbage, it's ok, I guess.

I finish eating, and head to the training center. First round of tryouts is today.

This is how tryouts work. Anyone can signup to tryout, even those who don't attend training school, although only twice have 'civilians' passed the first stage. The first stage is just showing some basic skills with any weapon, or any number of weapons, and it can be anything you want, but you only have 3 minutes. The trainers, one of which is dad, an advantage for me, then pick 20 people, 10 boys, 10 girls, to move on to stage two.

In stage two, you pick one weapon, usually your best weapon goes first, and duel with a trainer wielding the same weapon. You're scored by either how long you hold until you lose, or how fast you beat the trainer, whichever one is applicable, although it's usually the former. To prevent sparring sessions from lasting too long, the limit to one round of sparring is 10 minutes, although it can be dragged a bit longer if it's evident that one side is about to beat the other. The other trainers watch and take notes. You may repeat this process with up to two more weapons, for three times total. Then, the trainers select 4 people, 2 boys, 2 girls, to advance to the final stage.

The final stage, it changes a lot, and whatever stage three is, it's always kept secret until the stage three rolls around.

I'm a bit early, so I'm only behind 30 or so hopefuls. I patiently wait for stage 1 to start.

* * *

 **Valentine Cliffe, 18**

 **District 4 Female**

* * *

I walk to the back of the line. It's very long, like last time, maybe about 150 people. We're right on time, as someone marks the end of the line right behind us, meaning that no more people are allowed to get in line. We're all handed numbers according to which place we are in line, and they'll make announcements saying which numbers need to be ready. I get the number 146, and then the line disperses. The rough estimate is 20-30 people per hour, so I should check back here in about 5 hours, to see how close it is to my turn. Other than that, though, I can do what I want in the mean time.

None of my friends are in the line, as they either want to try in a different year, like Caspian, or just don't want to volunteer at all, like Alizée and Milo.

I decide that, while I wait, I'll go to Alizée's house, partially because it's the closest to the training center, and partially because she likes to have fun. She's also the same age as me, which is cool, but so is Milo, while Caspian is 17.

After a short 5 minute walk, I arrive, and ring the doorbell.

Alizée opens the door and lets me in.

"Already got your number?"

"Yep, barely made it in line. I slept a bit too much. Had to hurry through everything. I'm #146."

"So you're here while waiting for all those people?"

"Pretty much. Would you mind if I call Milo and Caspian if they would like to come over?"

"Go ahead," she says excitedly, "you know where the phone is."

I go over and call both of them, and both of them say that they'll come.

"Any ideas on what you want to do?" I ask.

Alizée thinks for a bit, then exclaims, "I know, let's decorate my little brother's room with toilet paper!"

I laugh, and try to breathe normally. "If they're up to it, sure!"

When Milo and Caspian arrive, Alizée tells them the idea, and after laughing, they agree.

Milo, of course, thinking of everything, says that he'll watch for Alizée's brother, Stewart, and if he sees him coming, he'll intentionally spill some water and say, 'Oops!' alerting us to his presence.

Alizée, Caspian, and I head upstairs to her brother's room. I stop by the bathroom to pick up some toilet paper rolls.

"Here they are!" I exclaim, entering Stewart's room.

We all take a roll, and start 'decorating' various places with toilet paper. The bed, dresser, desk, and chair all receive a healthy dosage of toilet paper.

We're almost finished when we hear a splash, and then an 'Oops!' sound coming from downstairs. We rip the end off our phones and quickly hide in Alizée's room.

And just in time, too. We hear someone coming upstairs, and then we hear, _"WHO DID THIS TO MY ROOM?"_

This is going to be fun while it lasts.

* * *

 **Saipan Blackford, 18**

 **District 4 Male**

* * *

 _"Number 36, please enter the tryouts now."_

I check my number, and yes, it's 36. Reassuring myself, I walk in.

"Name?" one of the trainers ask.

"Blackford, Saipan Blackford, 18 years old."

The trainers nod, and motion for me to continue.

I grab a scythe and start showing some skills I have. I disarm a make-believe person, and show some powerful sweeps, slicing a dummy's head off, and then some quick jabs. I've planned the entire 3 minute session out, and practiced it. Before I know what has happened, I've finished my routine, using up all my time.

I bow, respectably, and leave.

 _"Number 37, please enter the tryouts now,"_ I hear as I leave.

When I get back home, a very familiar dark-skinned person with blue eyes is waiting for me.

"Hey, Saipan. How'd tryouts go?"

"I think it went well, Trovin. I'm rather sure I'm moving on."

Trovin Basset, who is a year younger than me, has been my friend ever since we've collided in 1st grade. He's a bit tricky, and has gotten on my bad side a few times, but we've always made it up.

"That's great, Saipan. I'm going to try next year."

"I already knew that. By then, I hope I'll be living in the Victor's Village."

Thinking of the Victor's Village brings a pang in my memory. Aria Wynn, who was one of my other good friends, died in the bloodbath two years ago in the hands of a girl from 7. If I get to the games, I'll make it a personal point to kill the District 7 girl in revenge.

"Something wrong, Saipan?" I hear Trovin ask.

"Huh? Oh, it's nothing," I say, shaking the depressing thought from my mind.

"Ok, I just came over to see how you did, and to ask if you want to surf."

"Uh, not today, maybe a day when I don't have tryouts," I say, smiling.

"Alright, then."

* * *

 **Valentine Cliffe, 18**

 **District 4 Female**

* * *

After pulling so many pranks my voice wants to give up, I glance at the clock.

"Oh no!" I exclaim, "sorry guys, I gotta run! Tryouts . . ."

And I do, running to the training center, and managing to hear that #144 is being called. Phew.

I catch my breath and wait for my turn. I'm good with tridents and spears, like a lot of District 4, that's our preferred weapon usually, but I'm also good with a sword. However, my most impressive is a trident, and since we only get to choose one weapon for today, that's what I'm going with.

When it's my turn, I state my name, and pick up a trident. I skewer a dummy with enough force for the prongs to be visible in the back, followed by slicing a dummy's head off, and its appendages for good measure.

I then perform some moves into open air, and then throw my trident into the heart of a dummy just when three minutes are called.

I bow, and leave. There are hardly any more people left, and the trainers have watched so many people that I'm not sure if they even pay attention to people close to the end. Oh, well. We'll see, I guess.

I stop back at Alizée's house to tell them in more detail what happened, and then I head home.

I enter my home, and hear commotion that must be from my two other siblings.

Daniel is three years younger than me, but almost as tall as me, and seems to be enjoying a pillow fight with Oceane, who is 12. Both are in the training academy, but for Oceane, she doesn't plan to volunteer and is doing it mostly for strength training. Daniel, though, plans to try when he's 18.

Oceane and Daniel seem to be having too much fun for me to break up the fight, and they're smiling and giggling, so I just head to my own room, but stop short when I notice toilet paper littered in my room.

The pieces of the puzzle fall in place instantly, and I make note to 'murder' Steward later. Daniel and Oceane must be having a pillow fight, which I've never seen them do, to have an excuse to laugh and smile.

"Daniel! Oceane! Did you do this to my room, or at least 'allow' this to happen to my room?"

I guess I deserved this, though.

* * *

 **Saipan Blackford, 18**

 **District 4 Male**

* * *

My dad's not going to be home any time soon, as he's a trainer and has to grade, what, about 150 assignments and select 20. At times, he's come back as late as past midnight, when I'm already asleep.

Sometimes, I get the feeling that dad isn't too keen about me getting in the games, unlike a lot of people, but mom is definitely pushing me for the games, and I think it's rubbing off on dad.

My mom, Nia, puts the food on the table, and I dig in.

"How'd tryouts go?"

"I think I should move on to stage two."

"Good. You're going to get us a house in the Village, right?"

"Of course, mom."

Just then, Kona walks in, but he apparently heard the last part of the conversation.

"Look, Saipan. You know my position on this," he says, sliding into his chair next to me, "a lot of kids are like this, so sure about winning, but in the end, most of them die, and only one person comes out."

"I know, but I'm different," but inside, I'm debating whether I have too much confidence. Aria was confident and when I went in after the reaping to see her, she planned all the stuff we would do after she won. But she died not even 30 minutes into the games.

Kona sighs, and just starts eating.

"Hard day at sea?"

"Not hard, just tiring. The fish are too strong. Collectively, of course. And we're feeding an entire nation."

"Not really, District 11 also does that, and seafood is really only capitol stuff, other than here."

I try to push back my self-doubt, and finish eating. The results of stage one will be out this morning, and in the evening, the second stage tryouts take place, and I'd better be ready in case.

* * *

 **Valentine Cliffe, 18**

 **District 4 Female**

* * *

I get up, off my bed, and out of my room as soon as possible. I don't want to clean up the toilet paper today, and just slept on it for the night, as I was too exhausted to clean it up.

I'll probably clean it up after I see the results of stage one.

I go in the kitchen and meet my dad, Cody, who gets up early to go fishing. He's probably the most famous fisherman in the district, and brings in huge hauls almost regularly. I met dad once as he was unloading, and he must have caught at least a thousand fish. I must have gotten up really early, because usually dad leaves before anyone else wakes up, even mom, who gets up early to make breakfast for Daniel, Oceane, and I.

"Hi, dad."

"Oh, hey Valentine. Up early to see the results?"

"The stage one results, yeah, I'm really excited."

Dad picks up his lunchbox. "I wish you luck, but I have to go fishing now. See you soon," he smiles.

I grab fairly arbitrary food and just eat, because I want to get to the training center as soon as possible.

Daniel and Oceane aren't up yet, possibly to stay away from me for now. They probably knew that I would wake up early, and so slept in slightly. Whatever.

I head out to the training center, and see that they've just put up the names of the 20 individuals who have advanced. Since it's so early, not too many people are there to look at the results, so I get in seeing range rather quickly.

The girls are always on the left-hand column, and the names in each column are arranged alphabetically by last name, so if I made it, I should be at the top.

And sure enough, the first line reads, 'Valentine Cliffe.'

* * *

 **Saipan Blackford, 18**

 **District 4 Male**

* * *

I note that I made it to the second stage, but I feel that Kona's words are eating away at my bravado. The training center is open only to those who have moved on today, so I decide that I'll just practice to shake this feeling off.

I grab a scythe and practice dueling with an available trainer. He shows me a complex disarming maneuver that I think I could use today. I practice the maneuver for some time, before taking a break, but when I do, Kona's words haunt me again. Would I run in the face of a tough enemy? No, I can't think like this. Of course I would, and win, right? I try to reassure myself.

Maybe practicing isn't the best way to get ready for tonight. I should just go home.

Halfway home, I start tearing at my hair, trying to get Kona's voice out of my mind. I can win, right? I mean, I never settle for anything less than 1st, right?

I collapse on my bed when I get home, set my alarm clock for about 2, and plug my ears even though it does nothing to shut off Kona's voice.

 _'Why did you have to do this to me!?'_ I think as I manage to drift off.

* * *

 **Valentine Cliffe, 18**

 **District 4 Female**

* * *

Although Milo's home is farther, it's on the way home, so I decide that instead of going to Alizée's home, I'll tell Milo and ask him to tell Caspian and Alizée.

 _*DING-DONG*_

Milo, after seeing me, opens the door.

"Hello, Valentine. Why are you here so early?"

"I went to the training -" I get interrupted.

"Oh, right. The stage one results. And?"

"I'm moving on!" I exclaim.

"That's great!" he encourages, followed by a punch in the arm. "Even though I train, it's more so I can work out, you know, right?"

"Yeah, your real talent is in school."

"Speaking of which, I gotta prepare for a history test. You know, I get this feeling that there's more to Panem than we're told, because . . ."

I start to tune Milo out while pretending to sound interested. Milo does that a lot, he starts talking about stuff that comes right out of the blue.

"I got tuned out, didn't I."

"Wha . . . how'd you know?"

"You had that faraway look in your eyes that just give away that you're not interested in the history of Panem."

"What do I care about the history of Panem when I hope to go into the games?" I say, a bit more hostile than I liked. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have -"

"I understand, you must have a lot on your mind."

"Thanks, Milo. Bye!"

* * *

 **Saipan Blackford, 18**

 **District 4 Male**

* * *

My alarm clock is way too loud.

I jolt out of my bed when it goes off. All for the better I guess, because the second round starts at 3:30 PM. We go in order of girl-boy-girl-boy, and so on, in the order of the list, meaning I go first for the boys.

I realize I haven't had lunch, and I'm starving. Fortunately, mom seems to have prepared for everything, and has laid out some tuna with some special sauce, a big banana which obviously was not grown here, and some salad.

The tuna only reminds me of Kona, though, and before anything else, I feel ready to split my head.

"Is something wrong, Saipan?" mom says worringly.

"Uh . . . it's nothing, just though of something." I say dismissively.

Mom seems to get that I don't want to talk about it, and lets me eat in peace.

"You'd better do well though. I haven't had you train for years for nothing."

I grin in response.

After eating, I head back to the training center, and trying, and maybe succeeding a bit in pushing my older brother's obnoxious voice out of my head. However, I seem ot have lost focus, because I get lost somewhere I don't recognize. Confused, I try to backtrack, and after forever, I manage to get to the Square, which has a large clock which reads 3:15.

NO! I only have 15 minutes. Well, ok, maybe more than, because some girl is going to go first before me, but still, I'd better get over there as quickly as possible. My mind drops everything as I bolt towards the training center.

I arrive just as they're calling some girl in, Cliff, I think? I look at the girls names and realize that I'm just in time, and the first girl, someone named Valentine Cliffe, is going in first. What sort of name is Valentine? If I go to the Games, I don't want a partner who's called 'Valentine.'

I sit down and catch my breath. Kona cannot interrupt me during my session, and I somehow manage to lock Kona out by giving myself simple math to do, even though I hate math. Come to think of it, I don't like school, but it's the only thing that I can think of doing to keep Kona out.

 _"Saipan Blackford, please enter the training center now."_ I hear, and I walk in.

I grab a scythe and get in a ready stance with the trainer.

* * *

 **Valentine Cliffe, 18**

 **District 4 Female**

* * *

That went _too_ smoothly.

I fought with the trainer for probably eight minutes, because I remember seeing the timer at about two minutes and knew that I had to hurry up. I feinted to the right and the trainer shifted guard a bit, but enough for me to use the prongs of my trident to twist his trident out of his hands. His weapon clattered to the floor, and I held my trident to his throat, before lowering the trident.

The spectating trainers murmur about my disarmament technique, as well as a few other things, before dismissing me.

If that show doesn't get me into the last stage, I don't know what will.

The results will be announced tomorrow at the same time as today, but the last round is at 1:00 PM tomorrow, instead of 3:30 PM.

I hear someone coming behind me, and turn to see Caspian. His short and wavy blond hair complement his blue eyes so well. I've never seen him this way before, but it looks cute and stylish.

 _What are you thinking? You can't fall in love with someone now, if you don't make it to the games, or come back victor, then you can consider it. Right now, stay on task_ , I hear my conscience yell at me. I tell my conscience to shut up.

"How'd the second round go?" I hear Caspian inquire.

"Disarmed the trainer with about two minutes left," I say proudly.

"Wow, nice job. That will almost certainly get you a spot in the final round. Stage. Whatever."

His stuttering is so cute, too.

 _Shut up, yourself. Don't die._

I don't feel like I can maintain a conversation with Caspian at this rate, so I say goodbye and head home, anxious to tell my family of my performance.

* * *

 **Saipan Blackford, 18**

 **District 4 Male**

* * *

I didn't disarm the trainer, which was sad. Good news, though, he didn't disarm me. The fight was really tough, and it lasted the full 10 minutes, neither of us gaining a significant advantage on the other. I hope my dad can convince the other trainers that I put up a good fight.

Kona tells me I'm too scared _in_ a good fight, even though he never said those words.

And then, another voice joins in with Kona's. She's not saying anything like Kona, but any words from her would make me depressed. I had to remember Aria now.

She was so sure, but she died.

I decide that a talk with Trovin may calm me. I head over to his house, which is, conveniently for him, close to the seashore.

I knock on the door, and have a talk.

* * *

 **Valentine Cliffe, 18**

 **District 4 Female**

* * *

As I thought, my family was pretty impressed.

Daniel and Oceane apologized for helping in the grand scheme to toilet paper my room, and then my entire family, except my father who was still at the fishery, congratulated me.

"Technically, though, I'm not in stage three yet, though I think it's likely from my performance," I grin.

"Well, if you win, you're getting a celebratory dinner, Valentine."

I just hug my mom in response. "Thank you," I smile, knowing that, with my performance, I'm almost certainly going into the 113th Hunger Games.

* * *

 **Saipan Blackford, 18**

 **District 4 Male**

* * *

Yesterday, I wasn't this jumpy. **  
**

But today, I'm nervous for the results, whether or not I made it into stage three. Kona and Aria seem to be cheering for me not making it any farther than I already have, though.

After several hours of attempted sleep, I get up, even though it's 6:30.

And, of course, as a reward for getting up so early, I run into who else but Kona. Seeing him in person, all of a sudden, makes me realize how close we normally are, but we've been giving each other the cold shoulder recently.

"Kona?" I tentatively ask.

Kona sighs. "Look, yesterday, I probably came too hard on you. If you do want to volunteer, then I'll support you even if I don't fully agree with the decision. I just want you to know the usual Career 'stereotype' and I want you to avoid it."

Wait, what? Kona is apologizing to me?

"Uh . . . thanks Kona, I'll keep your advice in mind," and my coldness to Kona seems to disappear. Of course it did. We've smoothed stuff like this before.

"I've got to head out now, just be careful, brother."

"I will. Thanks."

* * *

 **Valentine Cliffe, 18**

 **District 4 Female**

* * *

All that's posted are the four names that will be advancing, and then we'll all meet at 1:00 PM for the final stage, whatever that means.

I read the list of people, and sure enough, with my stellar performance, I've made it into the final stage. Now, there's only me and some other girl named Sandy Shelly. She just reminds me of that tongue twister, _She sells seashells by the sea shore_ , which I guess now is _Sandy Shelley sells seashells by the sea shore_.

I smirk, and think that, between her, whoever she is, and me, I'm definitely going to the games.

My family already knows I'm going in (well, _technically_ know I _probably_ made it in), so I think I'll just hang out at Alizée's place, and avoid pranking anyone.

I tell Alizée the good news, and then after I announce that today I'm going to be a 'pacifist,' we pull out a few board games to pass the time until lunch, and then the final stage.

* * *

 **Saipan Blackford, 18**

 **District 4 Male**

* * *

At precisely 1:00 PM, four people in a tense group walk into the training center.

My rival for the District 4 Male spot is someone named Troy Dowell. He looks powerful, and scary.

No, don't think of that, think of beating this Troy.

I've been able to keep both Kona and Aria at bay today, probably because I've reconciled with Kona, but not completely. But I told Kona I'd keep his advice in mind, so I guess my situation is ok.

My dad announces what we're going to do. Three rounds of sparring, male vs. male, female vs. female. Very simple. Whoever wins more rounds will win the privilege of volunteering. You win by either disarming your opponent or hold your weapon to the opponent's chest, head, or neck.

There isn't a time limit, since we have almost half the day, but if it has to come down to it, a coin toss will decide it all.

I grab a scythe, and signal that I'm ready to Troy, who has picked up a large, menacing sword.

We start sparring, and it becomes immediately evident that he's very strong, and I'll have to block less and dodge more, because every time I block I get pushed back, which isn't good.

I want to cower and run, but I can't do that. I either win or get disarmed, which would mean death in the arena.

All of a sudden, I remember, the disarmament maneuver I learned from the trainer yesterday or something like that. I guess it would work on swords as well as scythes, but I don't know. I decide to try, and before either of us know it, his sword slips out of his grasp and onto the floor.

I've won round one.

* * *

 **Valentine Cliffe, 18**

 **District 4 Female**

* * *

I wasn't expecting her to be so hard.

She wields a spear, which I'm familiar with, but she's clearly better than me with a spear, and after catching me off guard the first time, I recollected and won the second round after a grueling effort that ended with my trident at her throat.

And while we're on our third round, I glance at the scoreboard and the boys are apparently only at round two.

I slowly start to decipher Sandy's attacks. They're almost all offense, and not much defense. I should go more defensive, and if or when Sandy gets frustrated, she'll probably make a mistake which I can take advantage of.

I calmly block all her attacks, and after several minutes, she commits way too much on a strike, which I guess was caused by anger or frustration, and I twist the spear out of Sandy's grasp.

I'm going into the Hunger Games.

* * *

 **Saipan Blackford, 18**

 **District 4 Male**

* * *

Troy apparently didn't know what I did to him the first time, because, after a few minutes, I performed the same disarmament move again, and it worked, again.

I then realize that my district partner, of all people, is Valentine. Ugh.

I guess I'll have to put up with her for the first week or so into the games, and then after that, I can go for her.

Right now, I just need to get a good reaping outfit, a token, and all that stuff, by tomorrow.

I go to Trovin's house to say goodbye to him, and then my family afterwards.

* * *

 **Johnathan Wilford**

 **Head Gamemaker**

* * *

The District 4 symbol, a fishhook, lights up on the screen, representing the district trade, fishing. 4 produces a lot of victors as well, and is traditionally allied with 1 and 2.

By this point, I all but tune out the video and the pre-reaping announcements, as I've heard them all three times over now.

The district escort, Verita, reaches into the bowl, and selects a piece of paper from the girl's bowl, but I've already spotted movement from the 18 year old girl's section, and I'm not paying attention to the name of the reaped, when a girl in a simple blue dress, the traditional color of 4, steps out to volunteer.

"I'm Valentine Cliffe," the girl says simply.

Verita nods plainly, and then walks over to the boys section.

Almost as if planned, there's also movement in the 18 year old boys section, and once again I don't pay attention to the reaped, as he's safe, because an athletic boy, wearing a sea blue with seaweed green outfit, steps up to volunteer. Unfortunately for him, he trips on the stairs as he half-jogs to the stage, which earns laughter from the audience and the commentators.

The boy's name is Saipan Blackford, and I know that these two are good contenders for the games, and as usual, 1, 2, and 4 will have the odds stacked in their favor for this year's games.

* * *

 **Valentine Cliffe, 18**

 **District 4 Female**

* * *

I twirl the pearl necklace that my mom made herself for me, out of the limited jewelry we have. It is a great reminder of home, which is what tokens are for, right?

My family walks in and Oceane sits on me, while my parents and Daniel sit opposite of me. Even though I already said goodbye to them, I wanted them to come in anyway, just to see them once more.

We just sit in silence, until they're taken away. I told my friends not to come see me, because I might break down seeing Caspian, for no reason at all, I tell myself. I can't think about love now. I have to face the Games themselves.

* * *

 **Saipan Blackford, 18**

 **District 4 Male**

* * *

Kona and my mom come in first, and I'm not expecting dad as he's just plain beat after scoring people so much.

My mom's clearly proud of me, that I might get her a place in the Victor's Village, and make her proud of her son.

Kona is more serious though.

"You remember what I said, Saipan?"

"Yeah, don't be the stereotypical Career."

"Do you know what that means?"

"Uh . . ." was my intelligent reply.

"It means don't be overly arrogant. Learn some survival skills, which Careers don't often know. And don't be afraid to shy away from a fight, if it's necessary to save your life."

Then Kona and mom are taken away, with Kona's words ringing in my ears.

* * *

 **There's District 4. This ended up a lot longer than expected because I tried to make a conscious effort to not have the selection process for the three career districts the same, as that seems odd to me. We're 1/3 of the way through the reapings now! And now for my questions.**

 _ **Will Saipan be encouraged by Kona or will Saipan alienate his brother and become the 'stereotypical' Career? How will Caspian affect Valentine during the games, and is she too underestimating of her opponents? How about Saipan's opinion about Valentine? And of course, to the submitters, did I play Saipan and Valentine as you expected?**_


	6. District 5 Reapings: Pavona & Jasper

**Here's District 5. Now that there aren't training stuff to mention now, chapters _might_ be a bit shorter. This one isn't, though. Mystery-Takes-Its-Tole submitted the male, and I'm The Original Crybaby submitted the female. Thanks to both for the tributes. ****Hope you enjoy, and have a happy 4th. :)**

* * *

 **Jasper "Jaz" Voltize, 14**

 **District 5 Male**

* * *

I wake up to the sound of good food. Breakfast time.

I stretch, and get out of bed. Walking out of my room, I bump into my older sister, Jezabel. She's 14, a year older than me, although there are those three months in summer where we're technically the same age.

"Sorry, Jezabel," I say, not completely sure I actually meant it.

She grins evilly, probably planning to say that I shoved her to my parents as soon as possible. We head to the dining room to be met with a small cake, and no one else.

Oh, right. Today must be June 19, which means I'm turning 14 today. My birthday, however, is always spoiled by the fact that the Reaping is always two days later, on June 21.

Mom and dad must have already left for the battery factory already. Jezebel, claiming that the cake was meant for her, even though It's unambiguously my birthday, takes nearly the entire cake for myself, and carves a tiny slice for me. She then takes 'her' cake, and leaves, probably to see some friends.

Steaming inside, but knowing it will get nowhere, I eat my cake and then head out to where I know there's a hole in the District fence to check on my traps.

Technically, it isn't a hole, but I messed with the wires causing the section of fence I'm climbing to not carry electricity, so I'm in no danger of being electrocuted. Not that me dying would be too much of a tragedy for my family. Mom and dad clearly care for Jezabel more than me. She got a huge cake, special from the bakery, which must have cost my parents 1/10 of their annual salary each.

Jezabel gets better grades than me, and can beat me in practically anything from board games to ball games, to non-games. She also works some, so she even gets more money than me.

Practically the only 'games' I win are the ones which call for inherent traits, like how I always win the 'who's shorter' game, or the 'who's younger' game.

Maybe the only exception is that I salvage food for myself.

I climb over the fence, and check the traps I rigged, and come up with a small frog and a rabbit. Both squirm when I stuff them into my bag.

I feel bad for them, but they're free out there, they don't have to compete against annoying sisters or face reapings or face death by an 'unfortunate' accident with a peacekeeper.

I reset the traps, when I hear rustling that's too close for comfort. I climb up a tree and conceal myself to the best of my ability. A bear lumbers by, and I hope that the squirming in my leather bag doesn't make too much noise.

Apparently it doesn't. The bear wanders off, and I get down from the tree.

Since I remember that Jezabel left for something, I have the house to myself. I kill the frog and rabbit, and roast both in the oven that our family has.

Not that I'm part of the family, anyway.

While I wait, I decide that I don't want to be in the house, as it reminds me too much of how my parents favor my sister over me. They might even favor my sister more than each other. To my parents, Jezabel is biologically related to them. To each other, they're just the other person needed for Jezabel to exist. Note that it's not for Jasper to exist. It's always Jezabel.

I know from experience that I should take the frog out after roughly 20 minutes, and the rabbit out maybe another 30 minutes later.

"You did it again, did you?" I hear to my side.

I turn to see Poppy Transient, who is probably the closest person to me. "Did what?" I say, trying for an innocent tone of voice.

"You went outside of the district. I saw you with a squirming bag."

I sigh. "If I was my sister, I wouldn't have to. I hate whatever grain comes in those tessare packages."

Did I forget to mention that I'm supposed to claim tessare for my family as 'insurance in case something goes wrong'? Let's not mention that there's enough spare tessare bags now for them to last several years now, and that mom and dad already have two or three years worth of savings. It's practically saying that it doesn't matter if I get sent to the Games, just make sure Jezabel has as low of a chance as possible.

Poppy only nods grimly.

"If you want, you can have the frog. The rabbit will be enough for me."

"Are you sure?" she asks concernedly.

"Yes, if you want it."

"Thank, Jaz," she says, hugging me like a true sister which I'll never have.

It's probably been enough time by now. I walk back in, with Poppy tailing me.

* * *

 **Pavona McCallistair, 16**

 **District 5 Female**

* * *

I brush my red hair back, and grab a hairband, trying to decide the best hairstyle for the Reaping, should I get reaped. Mom always said to prepare for these stuff a few days in advance, so we aren't panicked in the last few minutes.

"That looks nice, Pavona."

I smile, turning away from the mirror, to see my twin, Dove.

"Thanks, but don't you think I'd look better . . ."

"Nonsense, you look fine just the way you are. If you do get reaped, that hairstyle will work just fine. Remember, I'm older than you, so I get to tell you what hairstyle to pick," the last part obviously meant kiddingly.

Chuckling, I relent, and head to the living room, my hair in a ponytail with small braids at the sides. My two younger brothers, Harley and Carter, who are 13 and 10, are mulling over a chess game. They've been addicted to that set ever since we got it a few months back. I can't wrap my mind around it, neither can Dove. My _other_ older sister by three years, Canary, seems to understand the basic game mechanics, but even Carter could smash her at that game, metaphorically speaking, of course.

Neither brother notices me, too engrossed in their game, but mom, who is watching, does.

"I approve," she says simply.

"Told you," Dove says, while lightly shoving me.

As long as my family likes it, I like it.

"Dad's still at the dam?"

"Yes," mom replies, "but he should be home soon. Anyway I don't see why he won't approve himself."

"And Canary?"

"Actually, I don't know. Probably with her boyfriend."

This reminds me of my own boyfriend, Zachary Mvill. I might want to get his opinion on my hair, and possibly a dress choice.

"Hey, mom? I'm going to head out. I'll be back soon."

"Alright, Pavona. Just don't be long, dinner will be in about an hour."

I head out and make the 20 minute walk to Zach's house and knock firmly.

After a few seconds, Zach answers.

"Oh, hi Pav." It only takes him a moment to notice my new hairstyle. "Your hair looks great like that," he says, twirling the end of my ponytail.

I laugh quietly, and hug Zach. He returns it.

"I just came to ask your opinion on my hairstyle, but you seem to like it. Could you come over tomorrow? I have several dresses I want you to look at."

"Of course, Pav. When?"

"Um, maybe at about 1. I need a good reaping dress, just in case."

Zach's face darkens, if not for only a second. "You won't be going up there. You're only in 5 times. Some kids out there are in over 30."

"Well, just in case, I need a good dress."

"I'll come over," he smiles at me.

I thank Zach, give him one more hug, and head back home.

* * *

 **Jasper "Jaz" Voltize, 14**

 **District 5 Male**

* * *

The frog only had enough meat, barely, for one person, so Poppy just ate it at my house. The rabbit, though, had plenty of meat, more that I initially thought, so I gave 2/3 of the rabbit meat to Poppy for her family, and the remaining for myself. No reason to share with the rest of my family, they have plenty.

Poppy thanks me, and gives me a small hug, then goes to bring the meat to her family.

A few minutes later, as if planned, my parents and Jezabel come in, and mom starts cooking something that's probably delicious, while I'm shoved out of the dining room.

I just head to my small room and pick out an outfit for tomorrow. I make sure that I keep my only descent clothes clean for the Reaping in two days, although Jezabel probably has so many she could drown in dresses. Just another show of favoritism from my parents, I think.

The traps I set are usually pretty consistent, although there have been times where I had to go without food for a few days, like during storms or other bad weather, and sometimes the traps just come up empty.

And just like hunger, the Reaping comes closer, and there is no hiding from it.

I flop onto my bed, ready to embrace the night.

* * *

 **Pavona McCallistair, 16**

 **District 5 Female**

* * *

I'm actually going to get my boyfriend's opinion on the best dress!

Too excited to stay in bed, I ruffle through my wardrobe. Dad's job at the dam actually makes a good deal of money, so we're pretty well off, and I have a good collection of clothes to choose from.

After a tedious selection process, throwing out ones that are too small, and getting shouted at by Dove for accidentally hitting her with a dress, I come up with five that fit me and I think looks nice on me.

Although I think I'm more excited to just see Zach than the dresses.

I practically flutter to the kitchen where I'm greeted with some fine bakery bread, which is not common even for the amount of money we have, with some cheese and leftover meat, probably left over from yesterday, since it looks the same.

I don't care if the meat is the same, it still tastes good.

After breakfast, I get my sisters' opinion on the dresses I picked out, and they both agree that they all look good on me.

* * *

 **Jasper "Jaz" Voltize, 14**

 **District 5 Male**

* * *

After a meager breakfast, as usual, I head out to the usual spot on the fence, but when I get somewhat close, I realize that two peacekeepers are right at the non-electric part of the fence. I creep along the bushes, making sure not to be seen, but trying to get close enough to hear the conversation.

". . . no zap at all. It's just disabled. And I got a report of some kid hopping over the fence yesterday into the woods."

Darn. Someone saw me. I have to be more careful.

"Yeah, we'll get someone to fix this section of the fence. In the mean time, we're supposed to be here so no one can get out of the District."

Well, it looks like I'm not getting to my traps any time soon. Rigging another section of the trap is dangerous work and takes a while.

My stomach is not satisfied one bit.

Maybe Poppy has some leftover rabbit I can eat. I head over to her house and knock.

"Poppy, are you there?"

Poppy's mom answers the door.

"Hi Jasper, Poppy's not home right now. Why do you want her?"

"Uh . . . do you have any leftover rabbit that I can eat?"

"Oh, yes, we have some. You don't have anything to eat?"

"Someone found out that the fence wasn't charged," I say as I'm led into the kitchen.

"The meat's salted though, to prevent spoiling."

"That's alright. Food is better than no food," I say gratefully.

* * *

 **Pavona McCallistair, 16**

 **District 5 Female  
**

* * *

I'm just waiting at the door at 1:00 PM, waiting for Zach to show up.

And just as expected, at 1:01, he knocks on the door, and I open immediately.

"You're one minute late."

He gives me a quick peck on the cheek. "It's only one minute."

I laugh. "You have to get in your head that your clock is one minute behind ours."

"It doesn't matter, does it? It's to judge dresses, right?"

I grin, and we head upstairs to my room, kick my twin sister out (no hard feelings, of course), and I go behind a small wall I erected to change.

Zach grins at each dress, and after all five, we examine all the dresses side by side.

We decide on a modest yellow dress, the kind of yellow like the sun, which I guess somewhat reflects the District's main industry, but that's of course not the main reason for choosing that dress.

Zach liked this dress a lot, well, ok, he liked all the dresses. Either that, or he liked the person wearing the dresses. I grin mentally.

When I looked at myself in the mirror this morning, I thought that this dress complemented my green eyes especially well.

Of course, I do not receive an objection from my family, so I put the dress away to wear tomorrow.

After giving me another kiss and a hug, Zach leaves to go back to his house.

With all the Reaping fiasco aside, at least until next year, I decide to call up my friends if they want to come over.

* * *

 **Jasper "Jaz" Voltize, 14**

 **District 5 Male**

* * *

My hunger has somewhat subsided for the moment, as I don't usually _have_ lunch, so I go back home to check if any other members of my family are home. I don't want to 'socialize' with my family. Fortunately, no one is.

Mom keeps a ridiculous count on the food we have in storage, so there's no way I can sneak a significant amount of food out, unless your name is Jezabel, then you can eat as much food as you'd like. I do take a small bit of a few dishes, although it doesn't finish off my hunger.

I sit down and am about to decide, for a lack of a better thing to do, to go to sleep, when I hear a knock. I groan as I get up, and open the door to find Poppy.

"Hi Poppy," I say, still a bit disappointed I didn't get to nap, "I came by your house earlier today but you weren't home. Where were you?"

Poppy shudders. "I went out to see the peacekeepers you were talking about, but I think I got too close, and they saw me, and thought that I was the one who was sneaking over. Somehow, I managed to talk my way out of the situation," she finishes, probably thinking about what could have happened to her if she was taken away.

"All you had to do was look at a safe distance to see that they're there. Unless you were trying to eavesdrop like I did?"

"You did?" she asks, "What did they say?"

"Nothing really interesting, just something about someone seeing me hop over the fence, which is why the two peacekeepers are there now."

"Two? I saw three . . ." Poppy trails off.

"Was one tinkering with the fence?" I ask.

"Uh," she thinks, "I think so."

"Then he's there, or she, I guess, he or she is there to fix the fence. No doubt they realized that someone's intentionally tampered with the wiring by now."

Poppy doesn't respond for a bit, maybe trying to think about something to talk about.

"Why did you come over to my house? You mentioned it, but then we got to talking about the peacekeepers."

"No breakfast. Well, no _good_ breakfast," I say, "the peacekeepers are at the fence as you know, so I couldn't go into the woods."

"Could you rig another part of the fence?"

"Not while someone's working on it, as I have to temporarily redirect the current into something non-flammable. Last time I grabbed two dishes of saltwater connected by a metal piece to do the job. If someone was working on the fence, they'd notice something for sure."

Poppy nods, then we can't find anything more to say, so she excuses herself, and goes home.

* * *

 **Pavona McCallistair, 16**

 **District 5 Female**

* * *

Within 30 minutes, Nova Styx, definitely my closest friend of them all and is the same age as me, Twyla Czarist, and Luna Derricks, 15 and 17 respectively, all arrive at my house. Juno, also 16, couldn't come but I'll see her tomorrow, so that's fine. Mom is always ok with friends coming over, so I don't even ask for permission anymore.

We share a small group hug, and decide to go to the relatively big living room to play some games and just have fun, the day before the reaping, to lighten the mood, as everyone's almost irrationally scared that they'll be picked, when only one person in the entire crowd is actually picked. No one I know has even been reaped before.

We decide to play a game of darts. The darts we have are blunt tipped, so we won't get hurt by any sharp points, but they have some sort of non-sticky adhesive that sticks to the board, and a magnet on top of that to make sure that when the dart hits the board, it stays.

Twyla, despite being the youngest among us, is definitely the best at darts, and from a distance of about 10 feet, she gets a bulls-eye maybe once per three or four throws. But even though Twyla is creaming the rest of us, the thing I like to see is that everyone's happy and enjoying themselves.

After many games of darts, in which one round Nova actually edged out Twyla, which earned congratulations from all us girls, we agree that we should play something different now.

Harley, apparently overhearing us in the boy's small corner of the living room, suggests chess, but none of us are good at the game, so we decline. Carter shrugs and the boys continue to maneuver their things. Pieces, I think, they're called.

I grab some paper and a pencil, and suggest a game called Pictionary. I like this game, partly for its creative name, and partly because I just like drawing. Luna likes drawing too, and Nova and Twyla are ok at drawing.

Mom said that there used to exist a much more complicated version of the game from the days before Panem, but this simple version lasted in my ancestor's memory because it only required a pencil and something to write on. Just draw something, first person to guess what you're drawing wins and gets to draw next.

After many rounds, I look around, and notice the clock, which reads 6:36 PM. It must be past dinner time, but mom must have let me off, because we're having too much fun. Luna's drawing something vaguely resembling a bowl, while Nova and Twyla are watching intently, but with smiles.

 _As long as everyone else is happy, I'm happy too_ , I think to myself. _The only sad part is leaving._

* * *

 **Jasper "Jaz" Voltize, 14**

 **District 5 Male**

* * *

I get up on probably the most depressing day of the year. Reaping day. The day where a couple of kids, hopefully one of which is Jezabel, will get picked to die in some arena.

Stretching, I get my 'reaping outfit,' just a simple white shirt and grey pants. I don't care too much if it doesn't look good, because, even though I've taken out tessare, which we _totally_ eat, the odds of me going up are small. Larger than Jezabel, though, I think unhappily.

Today, Jezabel gets a ton more food as comfort, while I'm almost completely ignored, which is usual for reaping day. It isn't until 11:30 AM, but it's still scary, knowing it's approaching.

But, for now, we can stay and wait. The entire reaping process stuff starts rolling at 9:30, so I decide to catch some reapings from the ones which aren't actually depressing, from the districts which definitely prepare for the games.

I sit down and turn on the television. There's only two channels: Capitol TV 1, and Capitol TV 2, aka the reserve channel.

* * *

 **Pavona McCallistair, 16**

 **District 5 Female**

* * *

I arrange my hair like I did two days ago, braiding a small section on both sides, and then putting my hair in a ponytail. Dove and I, over the years, have just settled into the pattern of: I make my hair first while Dove changes, then we reverse, she makes her hair while I change.

I finish, and just when I reach the door to my room, Dove opens the door, and I slip in. I grab the yellow dress that was decided on yesterday, and slip in, making sure to bat away any wrinkles. I spin once, for fun, and then go downstairs for breakfast.

I probably didn't need to put on my reaping dress so early, given the time, but I don't care too much. As long as no one I know or care about is reaped, I'm fine.

* * *

 **Jasper "Jaz" Voltize, 14**

 **District 5 Male**

* * *

That was a bit unnerving, I think as I sign in the square.

I watched Districts 1, 2, and 3, skipping 4 because I need the 30 minutes to get here.

The unnerving part was not from 1 or 2, but the poor kids from 3, friends, I'd guess, going together to the arena, one guaranteed to die, with significant chance that both will die.

Well, ok, not _guaranteed_ , but extremely, extremely likely. Two surviving has only happened once in 112 years.

Before I go into my own section, I head to the 15 year old girls section to find the only person besides myself who I don't want to get reaped.

I tap Poppy on the shoulder, and she jumps, obviously nervous. I tell her good luck, and then walk back to my own section, all the while steering clear of any family that might be nearby.

* * *

 **Pavona McCallistair, 16**

 **District 5 Female**

* * *

Boyfriend first.

I find Zachary in the multitude of kids and give him a surprise kiss. He probably knows who's behind him from that very gesture, but he turns around and hugs me.

"Promise you won't get reaped?" I whisper in his ear, "because you know I'll be heartbroken if you do."

"I'll do my best," he replies.

I probably look awkward hugging and kissing someone, not to mention that I'm in the boy's side, so I leave and go to wish good luck to my friends. Juno first, because she didn't come to the party yesterday.

All I need to do is make sure everyone's happy after the reaping, and we'll live another year.

* * *

 **Johnathan Wilford**

 **Head Gamemaker**

* * *

The careers look normal this year, strong kids, with a lot of self-confidence, which is a very common trait from those districts, and is, more often than not, their undoing. It's always interesting watching them.

I'm interrupted from my thoughts when District 5's symbol shows on the screen.

We've left behind the districts which prepare for the games. The districts where kids are torn from their families, parents and friends cry, starts here. The real Hunger Games starts now.

* * *

 **Pavona McCallistair, 16**

 **District 5 Female**

* * *

Apparently, we have a new District escort this year. He introduces himself as Panner.

He might have been 'upgraded' or 'downgraded' from a different district, because he knows exactly what to do, as if he's done it all his life.

I don't care for the video, as I've seen it at least 10 times already, and four of those while I'm eligible for the reaping. I could probably recite the entire video by now.

Panner, after the video, drones on about how the video is wonderful and a good reminder _not hinted at us not rebelling at all._ He then announces, almost eerily similar to the previous escort, "Ladies first!"

Panner goes to the bowl on his right, our left, which contains all the girls' names. I did the math earlier, and, because Nova had to take out three tessare twice before her parents found a good job, the amount of slips in the girls' bowl which contain names I actually care about is at 31. This includes me, Dove, by the way, where is she? Then, Nova, Twyla, Juno, and Luna. If I knew the amount of slips, I'd probably be calculating the percent chance that one of us would be reaped. Not that I'm good at math, but I'm too nervous.

Panner selects one slip which is the doom of someone here. I hope for my safety and the safety of everyone I care about.

"Our female tribute is . . . Pavona McCal . . ."

I stop hearing the rest, because I already know who Panner is calling. Pavona McCallistair is going to the arena.

I'm going to die.

* * *

 **Jasper "Jaz" Voltize, 14**

 **District 5 Male**

* * *

Everyone looks over to the girls' side of the crowd, and at first, there are several people who seem stunned by the name. Then one person with a face more terrified by the rest steps out, with wobbly feet. She seems to calm herself momentarily, and then stiffly climbs the steps.

Lucky Jezabel, I pout in my mind.

Someone shouts for her behind me, a boy, because it's from my side, but he gets blocked by peacekeepers.

This is what the reaping does. No, scratch that. This is what the _Games_ does. It robs people of loved ones and friends, and the ones who do come back are usually scarred for life, mentally, if not physically, and possibly both.

The aforementioned boy behind me starts crying silent tears, as do some of the girls on the other side. This Pavona girl had a lot of people who cared for her, apparently. If I had to guess, they're probably boyfriend and girlfriend.

Panner, after 'congratulating' Pavona for 'winning' the reaping, I guess Panner used to do one of the 'career' districts, walks to the boys bowl.

Exactly 15 of those slips spell the end for me.

Panner starts unraveling the slip of paper, and I'm thinking, _Just get this over with already!_ when Panner reads the name.

That slip spelled the end for me.

I turn, desperately, to where I know Poppy is. She's clearly in shock, and stares at me before dropping her gaze. I see the peacekeepers coming for me, and I know that, in my confuddled mind, it's better to walk to the stage by yourself than be dragged.

Every step seems to be difficult. I feel my eyes welling, and my muscles seem to be practically paralyzed. Nevertheless, I manage to make it to the stage and up the steps without making contact with a peacekeeper.

* * *

 **Johnathan Wilford**

 **Head Gamemaker**

* * *

I get a call, just as the reapings for District 5 end.

"Johnathan Wilford, who is this?"

"Snow."

"Oh, I apologize, sir, I didn't realize."

"That is ok, but I want to make sure you know why we have the Hunger Games in the first place. It's not just entertainment for us."

"Yes, sir, I'm completely aware of that. The Games are a reminder to them to never rebel again. We take their children and slaughter them for fun. If they object to even the slightest detail, we have the power to completely crush them. Just like the forsaken District 13."

"Correct, Wilford. So, in the reapings I'm sure you just observed, it's our job to make them cry and feel regret. I need to make sure you do not feel sorry for them, this is a punishment brought on by the actions of their grandfathers or great-grandfathers, sure, but they still pay for it. The actions of a few in the world before Panem fated everyone else. It is not a worry."

"I completely agree, sir. Is there anything else?"

"No . . . I just needed to make sure. Enjoy the reapings." The last sentence, I feel, is more of a command, but one that I enjoy. The arena in mind will make it so much better.

I think of the two who were just reaped. The boy obviously does not have much upper body strength, but seems to have good legs for I don't know why. A lot of running, but running isn't an inherent asset in 5. I make a note to try to figure this out later, he might not be completely hopeless.

Pavona looks charming, and that's where the praise ends, essentially. She just seems to be one completely caught off-guard by the reapings. I don't know what else to say about her.

I sigh, and put my pen down as District 6 starts.

* * *

 **Jasper "Jaz" Voltize, 14**

 **District 5 Male**

* * *

I guess Jezabel and my parents succeeded in getting rid of me. Unless I have extreme luck, I'm going to die in the arena.

Succeeded?

I think back to my rocky relationship with my family, and I mentally curse myself. They're related to me, no matter how I'm treated, and I should have treated them as such. It dawns on me that it was primarily my fault I got so alienated in the first place. I just wouldn't listen. Jezabel always listened. Maybe this is just a different kind of punishment. One that will forever, or at least, for as long as I live, remind me to treat others with respect.

I hear someone come in, and I turn from the small window. Poppy.

She's been crying, no doubt, but not much. I hug her, and she hugs me back.

I resolve to apologize to my family, through Poppy.

"Poppy. Are you there?" She just blankly nods, still sniffling.

"Please, apologize to my family for my actions, for alienating them. I should have listened to them. This isn't how I wanted it to end. It's too late for any of us to change our attitude to each other, but I want them to know that I'm deeply, truely, sorry for my actions."

Poppy seems a bit startled by what I said, but ,

"And I have something I must tell you," Poppy says. "I . . . I love you."

Her words tumble out, and she hugs me. I'm shocked, but it does make sense.

"Please . . . please try to come back. I'll understand if you don't, but at least, try . . . ?"

Still in a bit of shock by her declaration of love to me, I try to form coherent speech. This is overwhelming me, my life has changed, my relationships have changed because my life has changed.

"Yes, I'll try. I'll try."

Poppy gives me one kiss, which I think I'll remember for as long as I live, and then she exits when the peacekeeper summons her.

* * *

 **Pavona McCallistair, 16**

 **District 5 Female**

* * *

I sob now, I can't hold it anymore, when my family comes in. Dove, Canary, Harley, Carter, mom and dad are all there.

I just try to embrace them all, but my arms aren't big enough. But they get it, and we share a sad group hug.

Harley seems to have an idea and tugs at my sleeve.

"Look, what you have to do out there is always have a plan. Too many people go in unprepared. Look ahead, and try to anticipate what the careers will do and where they'll search, as they usually do it systematically. . . "

He obviously has more in mind, but he starts to break himself. But the phrase, 'look ahead,' he said that all the time when I tried to learn chess, and utterly failed.

But this is a different game, one which I have to learn now. I say goodbye to everyone else, but now they seem distant, as my mind already seems to be 'looking ahead.'

If I don't learn this game now, I'll never learn it, and I'll be able to count the days I have left on my fingers.

* * *

 **If any of you are observant, you'll see that in the District 1 Reapings, they're listed to start at 8:30, instead of 9:30. This is not a mistake, but merely a timezone change based of maps of Panem. I'm timing the reapings so that one happens every 30 minutes, as that seems like a reasonable time to me, covering all the districts in 6 hours. Also, sorry to any girls out there if there's more to what girls do than what I described. I'm not a girl, so I only know what I've seen.**

 _ **How will Jasper's sudden change in attitude and relationship to his family and Poppy affect him? How will Pavona seek to 'look ahead'? Will she be heavily motivated by family, or will she be able to channel her emotions into her work? And for the submitters, how did I do and did I do what you expected?**_

 **Again, have a happy 4th of July. Happy 240th birthday, America.**


	7. District 6 Reapings: Savera & Jackson

**Here's District 6. RubyLeo submitted the male, and I Read To Escape The World sent the female.**

* * *

 **Jackson Valley, 17**

 **District 6 Male**

* * *

I look at the picture frame I have in my bedroom, as I always do close to the reaping.

My sister, Kianna. Dead. Stolen by the Games four years ago, killed at the hands of that District 1 Charme girl, picked off by a knife on the 6th day. I will never see her long, flowing black hair, or her blue-green eyes that never failed to comfort me.

The Reapings are supposed to squash any hope of rebellion. I hope it's wrong.

I start clenching my hands, before realizing I could destroy the only memory of my sister I have. I set the picture frame back on my small desk.

This year, Charles Tren wants to volunteer. I've begged for him not to, if he dies, my heartache will only grow stronger. He's insisted, though, and it's clear that I can't stop him.

I force myself to stop thinking of the Reapings, upcoming in two days, even though it takes great pains not to.

My thoughts inevitably wander to two girls. Gemma Yula, who obviously has a crush on me. She stares at me all the time, and spends some time flirting with me. I guess I'm friends with her, but I'm not interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with her. I don't think she's my type.

Diamond Waterloo, on the other hand, she's just awesome. She's pretty and smart, she makes good food when she has the right ingredients, . . .

I snap back to reality. Sure, I can daydream about her, but the daydreaming episodes better'd not happen in front of her. She's not attracted to me, sadly, but is to Charles. That's probably the one area of friction between Charles and I.

District 6 has no official training center, but somewhere, Charles found an ax and a sword and has been practicing with those by himself, along with some kitchen knives. Sure, since he doesn't have a 'trainer,' he's probably not as good as those from 1, 2, or 4, but he's pretty good otherwise.

I'd better stop ignoring the call for breakfast, so I change and shuffle downstairs.

We still keep an extra chair in memory of my older sister. Two months and a day from now, she should turn 22.

I slice off a small section of my dessert and place it on the plate where Kianna should eat.

"Jackson, I know it's hard for you," I hear mom say, "and it was hard for all of us, but you have to let go of Kianna now. It's been four years."

Four years since I ever heard her laugh when I tried to reached her fully extended hand, towering above me when I was 13.

* * *

 **Savera Ford, 13**

 **District 6 Female**

* * *

"Hi, Casey _Rascal_ ," I greet my friend, teasingly.

Casey fakes a scowl and gives me a half-hearted punch to the stomach, which I grin at.

"Savera, please . . ." she trails off. My grin only grows. "You probably have a different reason in coming over to my house than to tease me."

"Yeah, actually, mom and dad want to ask if you want to have dinner together at my house after the Reaping, to celebrate."

"That sounds fun, let me ask."

Casey turns and goes back into her house. A minute later, she comes back.

"It's a go!" she says happily.

"Thanks, Casey."

"Don't thank me, thank my parents for letting this happen."

"I will, but not now, I have to head home now."

"Alright, Savvy."

"What . . . did you call me?"

"Savvy, as revenge for calling me a Rascal."

I pout and leave, heading back home. Even though we're like this, it makes both of us happy, and nothing can go wrong when we're all happy, right?

"What'cha doing?"

I turn, recognizing the sound of that slightly annoying voice from a slightly annoying person. Remember when I said nothing can go wrong when we're all happy? Make an exception for Blainley. She's annoying, usually.

"Blainley, why do you hang around me so much?"

"Cause I like you, you're cool to be around."

"Well, I'm going home. I was at . . . well, never mind where I was."

"Where were you?"

"I said never mind," trying to emphasize that I don't want to talk to her now.

But, always ever curious, she keeps persisting. "Where? Where? Where?"

"Fine," I nearly yell, but catch myself, "I was at Casey's."

"Why?"

"Please, Blainley, you're cool when I don't have to go somewhere, but my parents are going to wonder where I am soon. Just let me go home."

"Ok, but I still need to know why you were at Casey's."

I sigh, and leave. I'm severely late by now. Estimating that I only have about 5 minutes left in what usually would be a 15 minute walk to get home, I run home as fast as I can.

* * *

 **Jackson Valley, 17**

 **District 6 Male**

* * *

I can't help it. My mind is only thinking of my sister.

Looking up, I realize that my feet have wandered all the way to Charles' house, a good 30 minutes away from my own house.

I decide that talking to Charles would be good, to offer encouragement, and to distract myself, if only for a while.

But when I open the back gate to where I hear Charles practicing, a knife whizzes just above my head and into the grass behind me, a good 50 yards away.

"Oh shoot, sorry, Jackson, didn't know you were coming."

Relieved to be alive, I fist-bump Charles, and then sit a good distance away from Charles so I don't get hit by anything that could end me.

"How's self training going?"

"I think it's going really well, I'm practically ready. I don't plan on going into the bloodbath for much, given that I'm probably not as strong as 1, 2, or 4 will be, so I've been mainly practicing with knives, which are not always just in the cornucopia, and speed, running."

"Look, you know I'm against you going, but it's clear I can't stop you. Just be safe, and I wouldn't initiate combat with the careers. I'd like to see you alive. I don't want to lose anyone."

I realize that what I said was mainly what I wanted. How could I be like this, when my friend is ready to possibly be slaughtered? "Just stay safe."

"You worry too much. I'm not your sister."

A pang shoots through me, and I nearly fall off the bench in the backyard.

"Oh, right. Don't talk about her. I'm sorry," Charles apologizes.

"It's ok, Charles," I tell him while mentally calming myself.

* * *

 **Savera Ford, 13**

 **District 6 Female**

* * *

I'm winded when I get home, but I do make it, barely. Nevertheless, mom notices and asks, "Why are you out of breath, and what took you so long?"

"I got stalled by Blainley," I state factually.

"Who's Blainley?"

"The somewhat annoying 15 year old girl who tags along for no apparent reason."

"Oh, don't tell me. She wanted to know why you were at Casey's house."

My mom is creepy like that sometimes. It's like she knows everything.

"Yeah. So that's why I'm nearly late getting back, and panting."

Mom nods. "Well, lunch is now. Wash up, and get some food. We don't have much, as I'm saving for the after-reaping party, but there's half an ear of corn, and an orange for you."

This happens more than I'd like, but it's ok. We have enough food so I don't feel hungry a lot.

While I'm eating, I hear Moa talking about some Capitol gossip she overheard from who knows where about the arena having something to do with rainbows, but it makes no sense whatsoever. Cara, who's 19 and now ineligible for the reapings, doesn't seem to care much, but Demeca and Kyva are listening. I don't care, as my name is in only twice, while they, Demeca and Kyva, are in six and four times.

It's that time of year when all of us are two years apart from our older or younger sibling. I'm 13, Kyva's 15, Demeca's 17, Cara's 19, and Moa tops it off, being 21. She still is at home, though, and doesn't seem to want to leave home any time soon.

As I'm not listening to my four sisters, I naturally start thinking of something else, and this time, my mind thinks of Apollo Demetri, who I think I'm just crushing over. My mom has warned me on this, dad too, that crushes may last for only months, but I don't care. Apollo's just awesome. He's pretty smart and his hair just covers his eyes and when he pushes the hair aside it looks so cute. Of course, Apollo doesn't know. That would be suicide for me, right?

* * *

 **Jackson Valley, 17**

 **District 6 Male**

* * *

As I watch Charles, of all people, Diamond comes in, thankfully, not through the back gate, and also sits down, watching Charles.

"Hey, Charles," Diamond says sweetly.

Her voice is very melodical, somewhat like birds. It's this and others that make me want her. A grim thought, that if Charles dies then I might be able to get Diamond, enters my mind, but in the end, I do want Charles to come back. I've been told by Marcus, my dad, that girls will come and go. Maybe one day I'll just stop loving Diamond, although right now I don't see how that will ever happen. Friends, he said though, last much longer.

Charles looks up, and grins. "Hi, Diamond," he says, greeting her, while chucking another knife.

Looking at his aim, he's mostly on target, and it's a fair 30 yards or so.

Even though the two friends I care for most are here, watching Charles practice is starting to remind me of Kianna again. It seems that everything I do only reminds me.

I walk into Charles' house, and look at the time, and realize that I've been here for a while, it's about 3 already. I should be heading home. I say bye to Charles and Diamond, and walk home.

By the time I get home, mom is worried sick, and hugs me as soon as I came in.

"You left after breakfast, and you were gone forever, and I didn't know where you were."

"Mom, I was at Charles, watching him practice."

A frown crosses mom's face, and I know why. But she sighs. "At least you'll be safe this year."

I'm safe this year, but how about the next?

Still one year to go, other than the one in two days.

* * *

 **Savera Ford, 13**

 **District 6 Female**

* * *

Of course, the Reapings are in the summer. Just a great way to spoil what otherwise would be a time where friends are carefree, no homework for school or 'District training' as they call it, which is a mix of Panem history and stuff about the District industry. For us, that would be transportation. Trains, airplanes, cars. But I've never been in any of those. We walk, ironically enough. Even cars are reserved for peacekeepers and important people, like the mayor's family.

Since I don't have anything to do until dinner, in a few hours, I decide to call Casey and Romulus Tzara. Romulus is a year younger than me, but he's pretty 'chill' and fun to have around.

Romulus first, I've already talked with Casey today.

After a few rings, I hear the phone pick up.

"This is the Tzara's, Tram here. Who is this?" Romulus' dad answers.

"Savera, is Romulus there?"

"Oh, Savera. Romulus is here, hold on."

A bit of silence follows, then Romulus gets on.

"Savera?"

"Romulus, just wanted to call and chat."

"Really? Ok, fine. What's up?" Romulus says, slightly hostilely, as he does not like small talk much, but the reapings change everyone, I guess.

"We're sharing a meal with the Rascal's after the reaping."

"The Reaping . . . this is my first year."

"You're only in once, right? Don't make a big deal out of it. If anything, it's Demeca who has to worry. She's in 6 times as many as you are," half-whispering the last sentence, not wanting Demeca to hear.

"I heard that, Savera!" Demeca's voice rings out clearly. Drat.

"I suppose, but there is the chance, right?" Romulus continues, clearly not hearing Demeca.

"Just be calm, and it will be over for all of us before you know it. What have you been doing?"

He sighs. "Freaking out a bit, but we've been through this already."

It's clear that he's not going to be able to talk about anything other than the Reaping and how nervous he is, so I say goodbye and remind him not to worry, and hang up.

* * *

 **Jackson Valley, 17**

 **District 6 Male**

* * *

"Hi, Opal," my dad says, greeting my mom after returning from work. "Dinner?"

"Of course," my mom answers.

Hearing this, I stop reading a book, and get up to eat.

I don't care if my mom or dad are concerned for me, but as I have for every meal for the past four years, I put a bit of my food on Kianna's plate. Mom and dad sigh, but know that after four years and not letting go yet, they can't do much. They've talked to me a lot about this, though, like breakfast.

This meal, though, they leave me in peace. I subconsciously look over at Kianna's plate. Even after all this time, I'm half-expecting the food to disappear into a stomach that no longer lives.

It's too much for me, and after eating, I head straight to my room, and plop onto my bed.

* * *

 **Savera Ford, 13**

 **District 6 Female**

* * *

One day, I tell myself, I'll no longer have to worry about the reapings. But that day is not tomorrow. It's five years and two days from now, when I can take my first breath of a new day, free from the reapings.

But, that day will come, I tell myself. There's hundreds, and even thousands of slips in the bowl. I don't need to worry, exactly like I told Romulus, and then in the phone call to Casey as well.

Two of my sisters have higher odds than me of going in, though, and while gruesome to think about, it's slightly comforting that my two sisters combined have 5 times more slips in than me.

But, preferably, no one I know goes in. Not me, my sisters, or Casey, or Romulus, or Apollo. The latter initiates a daydream, even though I just got up.

"Savera! You done in there? You've been in the bathroom for 5 minutes!" I hear Kyva say.

Oops.

* * *

 **Jackson Valley, 17**

 **District 6 Male**

* * *

The reapings get closer, and today, Kianna gets 1/4 of my meal. Mom and dad discuss quietly, no doubt about me not letting go of Kianna. Maybe they'll wait until at least after my last reaping. That would be easier.

Easier, maybe, and a lot more satisfying, if I could brutally murder every member of the Charme family, or have someone do it for me. Maybe if they could feel what they did to Kianna, I would feel better.

 _That's not what Kianna would want._

Shut up.

 _Shut up yourself._

Add my conscience to my 'To Kill' list.

Right as I'm putting my dishes away into the sink, the phone rings, and I pick it up.

"Hello?"

"Jackson?" Gemma's voice rings out.

"Hi, Gemma. Why call?" Calling isn't her style, she likes in person talk.

"I want to ask if I can come over to your house, just talk and maybe a bit of fun to lighten up the mood before the Reaping."

A pang at the word 'Reaping' shoots through me, again, but I control it. "Sure, Gemma. But I already told you, I'm not interested in you romantically speaking."

She pouts, hearing that, but still decides to come over anyway.

When she does, she is prepared with several jokes, which are decently funny.

"What does the Capitol need, and District 13 has?" Gemma asks.

"Huh? Isn't 13 gone?"

"As far as I know, yes."

"I'm stumped. The Capitol has everything and 13 is nonexistent."

"Nothing."

"Exactly, 13 is nothing."

Gemma cracks up, "No, 'Nothing' is the answer."

I knew that.

* * *

 **Savera Ford, 13**

 **District 6 Female**

* * *

After the slightly embarrassing event with Kyva, I eat breakfast quickly and head to the living room. I don't feel like going out today, and neither is any of my sisters, so we sit in a small circle, silently.

"What do you want to do?" I ask my sisters.

"Capitol stuff?" Moa suggests, and I groan.

"Please, yesterday was enough."

"Savera, what if we actually do go into the arena?" Demeca asks.

"That won't happen, especially not to me," I say, trying for a confident tone.

It won't, right?

"But how about me and Demeca?" Kyva asks.

I frown. "You two can listen to all the gossip Moa has. I'm just going to tune you out."

I do love my sisters, but sometimes they don't listen to me, because I'm the youngest.

Good thing about that is, I have the least chance of the three of us who could potentially get reaped.

As I said I would do, I tune Moa out for a while, until I see Demeca go get something off a shelf, and guess that the gossip stuff is over.

"What are you getting, Demeca?"

She holds out two decks of cards, and I know immediately. War.

A very simple game, flip the top card, whoever has the higher number gets both cards, claim all the cards to win. Of course, there being five of us, we usually shuffle two decks together, and play 5-way, which is really fun. It's a pure luck game, so I'm in no disadvantage being 8 years younger than Moa.

This is the best way to spend the day before the reaping.

* * *

 **Jackson Valley, 17**

 **District 6 Male**

* * *

Gemma leaves at about 2, having brought a small lunch to eat here, and then I realize that I managed to get through nearly four hours without thinking of Kianna, even during lunch. I note that some food is still on Kianna's plate, but I probably did it then out of habit, and didn't think about her much.

That's good in one sense, I guess, but on the other hand, I feel I betrayed my sister by not thinking of her.

In other matters though, Charles must be preparing himself. His parents, while not too happy about his decision, understood and let him volunteer. Maybe some 12 year old will get picked, and then Charles can volunteer.

He must be picking out some token and some good clothes to wear tomorrow. He says he'll also watch as much of the reapings as he can, to get a good idea of the competition. Charles wants to join the Careers, which might give him a good advantage, especially if he can get a good score.

I hope he's ready. There's less than 24 hours, and counting.

* * *

 **Savera Ford, 13**

 **District 6 Female**

* * *

I end up coming second, losing to Cara in the end.

Our War games, because of the sheer number of cards and the amount of people, take up about an hour. The chaos doesn't help much, but it's a good way to kill time, or just have fun.

After lunch, which, again, is reduced for tomorrow, still no one wants to go out, so we end up playing three more games, in which I win one, and lose the others, going out first both of the other times.

It's great fun, but enough is enough, we all agree, four War games is crazily high, especially with the long time it takes for just one game. We all then just do our own things. Cara and Kyva both like to draw, and grab their sketchbooks. Cara has been working on a shot of the entire family. She started nearly a month ago, working off and on, and is nearly done. Of course, I'm the last to be drawn, but as long as I'm there and looking nice, I'm fine. As for Kyva, I don't know what she's doing.

Me, I decide to just nap. I've already called my friends, Casey and Romulus, I don't want to call Blainley, I've had fun with my sisters. But before I nap, I grab my diary, which I write in every few days.

 _June 20. Had fun with sisters, binge-played War. Won once. Lunch was smaller today, to help prepare for tomorrow, which I will_ not _get reaped in, and have fun with my family afterwards._

 _-S.F.-_

* * *

 **Jackson Valley, 17**

 **District 6 Male**

* * *

I don't forget my sister at dinner. She always gets more food when it's close to the reaping. 1/3 today, maybe as much as 1/2 at breakfast tomorrow.

"Jackson," I hear my dad say, "you have to know that Kianna will never eat that food. You have to let go soon."

"Wait until after my last reaping," I grumble. They've waited four years, one more won't hurt.

Anyway, I feel that giving my sister food helps me to not think about her a bit, as if she's still alive.

Should I stay up late and 'prolong' the time until the Reaping, or should I just get it over with? Anyway, I know I'm not going, so I'd rather it be now.

 _Sleep tight, Kianna,_ I think as I drift off.

* * *

 **Savera Ford, 13**

 **District 6 Female**

* * *

I wake up, knowing full well that today, two people will be shipped off to the Capitol.

 _And the girl will not be me._

Thanks, conscience, exactly right. I'm not going up there.

Still, I go into the bathroom, and comb my free-flowing chocolate brown hair, making it as neat as possible. This time, I get out of the bathroom right as Kyva gets to the bathroom, so she can't yell at me.

I grab a blue dress, which is my designated Reaping outfit this year, worn by Kyva two years ago, Demeca four years ago, Cara six years ago, and Moa eight years ago. After today, the dress will probably be sold, as it is a bit small on me.

I twirl, and the dress rises to my upper thighs, but the leggings cover them, so I won't appear indecent.

I go downstairs, and hear the TV on. Of course, the Reaping coverage. District 1 doesn't start until 9:30 AM, but the commentators are on and talking about all sorts of stuff an hour before, which is what's going on right now.

I don't care for the initial commentary, but I might as well now get a heads up on the tributes competing. That should be on a bit after I finish breakfast.

* * *

 **Jackson Valley, 17**

 **District 6 Male**

* * *

 _Kianna, four years ago, today, you were forcefully shipped to the Capitol, and killed 13 days later._

I slide over nearly 1/2 of my breakfast to Kianna's plate, and eat the rest. I can go on pretty little, I'm not forced to be like this, but with me giving some food each day to Kianna for four years, I've learned how to manage.

Charles is probably watching the Reaping coverage now, and I decide I'll watch too.

The moment I see the very first tribute, the girl from District 1, I'm mentally screaming. The Charme name.

Adelyn-Jade Charme. Her sister, four years ago, brutally murdered Kianna.

She deserves to die.

* * *

 **Savera Ford, 13**

 **District 6 Female**

* * *

The standard 1, 2, 4 alliance will probably be the case this year. 3 was just normal, tributes trying not to cry for the cameras, but the girl, especially, failed at this.

But, whatever. This is just going to be another games, probably.

I don't watch 5, as we have to go to the Square before the pair from 5 are reaped.

When we get there, Demeca, Kyva, and I all exchange hugs, and wish each other good luck.

I then go find Casey, but before I get there, I hear _that_ annoying voice behind me.

"Feel lucky your name's only in there twice?" Blainley asks, "I'm in there eight times."

Right. Blainley is 15, which would mean she would be in four times, but she took out one tessare each year, as her parent's job almost sustained them, but just barely not enough. She's lucky she didn't have to take out three tessare each year.

I ignore Blainley as I've learned to do, and find Casey, and hug her.

"Ready for this?" I ask?

"I think. We're both in only twice each, shouldn't be too bad."

"See you for dinner tonight?"

"I hope so."

Hadria, our District escort, then steps up to the microphone, at 12 noon, exactly, and then begins what I've heard this being called, the '30 minutes of terror.'

* * *

 **Johnathan Wilford**

 **Head Gamemaker**

* * *

Hadria should be moved up to another district, but she hasn't for a few years. Then again, I'm not the one to decide these things.

She's on point, but says the right comments here and there that will hopefully stop an uprising against us.

Before I know it, she goes to the girls' ball, mixes thoroughly, and draws one name out.

She steps back to the microphone, and announces a name.

"Savera Ford!" Hadria proclaims.

I see a girl in the 13 year old section nearly faint, but caught by another girl who I assume to be a friend. The fainting girl, who I assume is Savera, shakily walks up and stands on the stage, clearly not expecting to be reaped at all.

Her assumed friend is crying. But this doesn't get to me, not after what Snow said to me.

She does not make a great impression on me. That, and a 13 year old has never won the games before, the youngest happened only twice at 14, and her chances of returning to her district does not look great.

Hadria then turns to the boys' ball, and like with the other bowl, mixes, and then draws a name out.

She announces one Jackson Valley.

The funny thing is, there are two movements, one from the 17 year old section, and one from the 18 year old section. The two boys step out, and the 17 year old turns to the 18 year old, and seems to say something to him, then turns around, and sits on the ground.

The 18 year old steps back, while peacekeepers come for the sitting boy. The boy fights the peacekeepers but he is forced onto the stage. Not sure how that will pan out, but the scene showed that Jackson has some strength, but I must keep an eye on him. He seems mad, and sometimes, mad tributes are rebellious tributes.

* * *

 **Jackson Valley, 17**

 **District 6 Male**

* * *

 _Thank you, Kianna, for giving me strength, for giving me power against hunger, for preparing me to avenge you._

I recall my small tussle. I knew Charles, after being briefly shocked, would have volunteered for me. But, when I was reaped, I knew that this was meant to be. Charles wouldn't target the Charme girl. For me, it will be my personal duty to destroy her, if nothing else.

Of course, my parents come in first. They're openly weeping, for they lost their daughter four years ago. Now they're losing me.

But not without revenge.

"Why didn't you let Charles volunteer for you?" My mother cries, nearly hysterical.

"For revenge," I say, feeling my anger rising.

"For what?" my dad asks?

"For Kianna." I answer, as if that answers everything. When I receive no response, I continue, "District 1 has another Charme girl going in."

That clearly explained it all. They mutely nod, and slip a coin into my hand. Clearly, a token. But before they can tell me anything about the coin, the peacekeepers announce that their time is up, and pull my parents from me.

Charles is next, and he's full of the same questions as my parents, except he is less emotional, but needs more explaining.

"Four years ago," I begin, "Kianna went into the games, and died." Charles nods at this. "She was killed by Silk Charme, from 1, and she _won_ her games." I say, spitting at the word 'won.' "I watched the reapings, and another Charme girl is going into the games."

There, the puzzle fits together for him.

"If your sole goal is to kill her, analyze her carefully. Learn her weakness, if any. And if you only want to kill her, you can go all out on her. I still want you to come back, don't get me wrong, but if you decide on a revenge mission, that's what you do."

Charles then leaves, and then the girls come in. But I don't hear them too much, as Kianna seems to be giving me advice already, and I don't have time for lovey stuff. I now understand what my dad was telling me. In these circumstances, diamonds are nothing. Revenge is everything.

* * *

 **Savera Ford, 13**

 **District 6 Female**

* * *

How? Just how?

That's all my mind will do, and I can't formulate an answer.

Only twice. I was in the bowl only twice.

But one of them was picked, and here I am.

All my family, dad, mom, and my four sisters come in. They've held up surprisingly well, except for Kyva, who's the closest to me, as we do share a room.

"I can't say I'm too surprised," says my dad, which shocks me. "We took a big risk in having five wonderful girls. And you are going to be taken. But you do have a chance. I'm not going to give bad advice, but listen to your mentor."

"We won't blame you if you can't come back, but we do want you," Kyva chokes out. "Please . . ." she trails off, before crying more.

I get a hug from all my family, before they are escorted out.

But I notice something, a book on the bench I'm sitting on which wasn't there before.

 _My diary . . ._

Mom or dad must have grabbed it just in case, and left it here for me. I can have it sent back through my mentor, if I don't make it.

Casey and Romulus come in next. I can't block the tears anymore, I'm scared, and lonely, and I'm going to be sent to die in a week.

I think about two days ago, when I went to Casey's house to ask if we would share dinner. I was not supposed to be here.

In sharing the memory, I cry even more, as do they. Romulus, even if he's not one for pep talks, he does tell me to stop thinking of us, and start focusing on there.

And he's right. If I'm going to make it out, I need to focus on there.

I tell them that I will miss them dearly, and then they're escorted out, and I take care of one more piece of business.

 _June 21. Saddest day of life. Got reaped. Family gone. Friends gone. Going to be slaughtered. Tell Apollo Demetri that I loved him._

 _-Savera Ford, 7 days left-_

* * *

 **I've noticed that chapters tend to be hard to start, but once I get going, the words flow right out. Nearly 4k was written in one sitting, while in two days I wrote the first 1k. These were great tributes.**

 _ **What path will Jackson take, the revenge path or the win path? Will this affect Addi's chances of winning at all? Ho**_ _ **w will Savera deal with her mess? What main thing will continually drive her forward? And, of course, to the submitters, how were your tributes, and did they go as planned?**_


	8. District 7 Reapings: Axlynn & Donovan

**Here's District 7, the lumber district! ThomasHungerGamesFan submitted the male and SatanicGeminiAndAngelicLeo submitted the female. Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Axlynn 'Ax' Birch, 15**

 **District 7 Female**

* * *

I lift the pig onto the slaughter table. I don't feel bad for it, we need it to survive. For _us_ , as a District, to survive. I don't like watching my dad butcher them though.

Dad thanks me and gives me time to leave. "And I have something for you to do after!" he yells after me.

I _always_ have something else to do after. I know dad cares for me, but I do a lot of tiring stuff.

After the pig is slaughtered and all that dad has to do with it is over, dad calls me back in. "I saw the look on your face as you left, it said that you're tired of all the stuff that I have you do."

Caught off-guard, I try to formulate a response. "Er . . . it wasn't that, I was, er . . ."

I must sound like some of the drunken victors when they're hung over or something.

"That's ok, Axlynn, I understand. But I still need you to do this."

"Do what?"

"Get Aspen and watch the counter until she comes back. _And no pranks._ " Drat.

Mentally relieved that I don't have to do manual labor, I exit the back of the shop, the door from the outside clearly labeled, "Employees Only," which essentially means family only. Well, almost. Aspen's the only exception, but she's so close she's essentially family. She even stays here full-time, like family.

Aspen Oaklee is really my best friend, but for the past few months has really been my older sister, being 17. We both like to prank people, but they sometimes make others more mad at us. Both Aspen and I have gotten into many fights and tussles, and I'm pretty good at wrestling. Aspen used to, but I've started taking her battles after her family disowned her because she got pregnant.

As a result, I have a lot of bruises and some sore places, the worst of which is the back of my right calf. It seems that it can't take a lot of weight, and it's hard to balance on one leg, but that person who made fun of Aspen deserved what was coming. Fortunately, the injury doesn't seem to affect me much. I don't think I'm limping, and I can still do all the things that dad asks me to do.

"How much for the steak?"

"6 Panerai [Pa-NAIR-eye] and 10 Panerii [Pa-NAIR-ee] for a pound,"

"Pound and half," the customer asks.

Half a pound would be 3 Panerai and 5 Panerii, for a total of, "10 Panerai and 3 Panerii," I say, as I go to the measuring station. Must be one of the wealthier of the wealthy ones, if he's ordering this much. Normal orders are 1/2 pound, and even then, 3 Panerai isn't something you see on the street.

I bring the wrapped meat to the counter, and the man digs out four inch-long coins and hands them over, saying, "Any change?"

I nod. I'm tempted to grab the fake coins and see if he realizes, but I'm not allowed to. What would that be, 12 Panerii in a Panerai means I give back 7 of the smaller coins, not the smallest, I tell myself. Those are Panets [pa-NEIGHTS], 12 of which make a Panerii, but practically no one has prices with Panets anymore. Panets are crazy tiny and inconvenient. Sure, we still use Panets on occasion, but I don't see much of them, and we don't price with them.

The man grunts, takes his meat, and leaves. No one else shows up when Aspen comes back. Of course. It's busiest in the hours between 5 PM and 7 PM, after the lumberjacks get off for the day but before they go home to their families. Right now, it's just past noon of . . . of . . . oh, what day is it? I glance at the calendar, and see that it is the 19th of July. I note the day two days to the left of it. At the bottom of that day, it is marked, _'Reaping Day (113th)'_. The day below that? _'Axlynn's Birthday,'_ and _'Start of Hunger Games (113th)'_.

* * *

 **Donovan Berkley, 17**

 **District 7 Male**

* * *

"Can we do something together?" my 10 year old sister asks me.

I look at Paige and realize, sure, she's looking at me, but she's also looking beyond me. Of course.

"Paige, if you want to learn to use an ax, you don't have to be like this."

Laughing, Paige tries to grab my red hair to pull me to the backyard, but my 6 foot stature is too high for my 4 1/2 foot sister.

"Hey, don't do that," I say teasingly, "or I could pull your hair . . ."

Paige shrieks and runs far ahead of me, clutching her brown pigtails to make sure I don't grab them. Of course, Paige probably knows I wouldn't, but it's fun doing that anyway.

We don't look like siblings at all. It seems that whatever trait I got from my mom, my sister got the opposite trait from dad, and vice versa. I don't know, but we are related, anyway. I got my red hair color from mom, and my green eyes from dad. Paige got brown hair from who knows where, as dad has black hair, and her brown eyes from mom.

Because it's 7 of all places, we have plenty of axes and plenty of wood. There's wood everywhere. Dad receives part of his pay _in_ wood, so we have plenty of extra wood, that we don't use, so I got dad's permission to use it for whatever.

Paige uses a 'mini' ax, but I grab a full-size one, and after making sure I won't chop anything but the wood, and bring the ax down, breaking the piece of wood in two. It's really easy, for me at least. What I think is tripping Paige up is that she can't produce the force necessary to chop the wood cleanly, she always needs two or three strokes to finish the job.

Another big part is that her stance is slightly wrong, so some of her effort gets wasted. I tell Paige to stop, then adjust her body and grab a new log.

First stroke pierces the wood part way, with the crack extending much further.

"Close," I tell her, "just wait for your strength to build up."

She's done enough today. I tell her to put her ax back where it belongs. After Paige clears out I stand a log on its end, and walk back a good distance. Then, I hurl the axe.

It flies slightly to the right, missing. I curse under my breath, and retrieve the ax.

"Clear to come in?" I hear over the fence.

"Clear!" I shout, maybe a bit louder than necessary, but it works. Martin and Bettina come in.

"Working on chucking them?" I hear Martin say.

"Yeah."

"Really, though. That skill doesn't have much use unless you're going _there_ , or you're really strong and accurate with them. The best ax chuckers can, at best, fell 12-inch trees by throwing them."

"Doesn't hurt, just in case.

Martin shrugs, and after another chuck, which I overcorrect on, sending the ax left, Martin makes a slight correction, and this time I connect. The log flies backwards, but with an axe in it. I look, and see it's sunk in roughly three inches.

"Got it," I proudly say.

Martin whistles, and Bettina claps, perhaps slightly mockingly, but whatever.

Maybe if I get stronger . . . but I'll put that on hold. Right now, I just want to chat.

I sit down between Martin and Bettina. Unlike Paige, Bettina could actually be my real sister. She has red hair and green eyes too, although mine is curly and hers is straight. And, of course, to top it all off, Martin could be Paige's sister, sharing the brown hair and eyes.

"Do you know the time?"

"When I left, it was about 3, so maybe 3:30 now?"

That's fine. It's not like I'm in a rush or anything, and I'm right in the backyard of my house so even if, I just take 10 steps and arrive at the backdoor.

"Nervous?"

"21st?" Bettina asks.

I nod.

"Last reaping for me," Martin says, "and next year it will be the last for the two of you as well. None of us ever had to take out tessare, I think, so I'm in seven times this year, and the two of you are in six each."

"And I'd say our chances of escaping the Reaping are really good," Bettina adds.

I nod, but think that, for practically everyone, the chances of escaping the Reaping are 'pretty good,' but someone has to get unlucky. But Bettina is the optimistic one, so I don't contradict verbally.

* * *

 **Axlynn 'Ax' Birch, 15**

 **District 7 Female**

* * *

After I close up the store, I decide I have to talk to Aspen. I head to her room and knock.

"Aspen?"

Aspen quickly opens the door and lets me in. "Hey Ax, you want to talk?"

"Yeah. It's _that_ time of year when _everything_ happens . . ."

Immediately, Aspen knows what I mean. "Look, there are worse things than your birthday being at the start of the games. Look at the mess I'm in."

I smile sadly. "That's why we're here. You got another chance. I can't change when I was born."

"It still doesn't change the fact that what you do has lasting effect."

Whatever anyone does has lasting effect. When I prank someone, they either get it and laugh, or don't get it and get mad. No one ignores it.

And, also, the really important things to people, I think, are those that happen change things for either good or bad, instead of no overall change. Aspen causes a lot of trouble, even when she's pregnant, and it changes things for the bad, to me. My bruises show it. Because it is detrimental to me, it is important. However, it is something I'm willing to take.

Maybe this is something I can think of whenever things go bad. The changes, and what was behind the changes.

Done thinking, I say, "Want to prank someone?"

* * *

 **Donovan Berkley, 17**

 **District 7 Male**

* * *

I think that I'll just worry about the reapings on Reaping day.

After my friends leave, I throw the ax a few more times, and then head inside for dinner.

We are ok money speaking, so we don't go hungry too much. Mom, as she always does the five days before the reaping, makes dinners themed for different districts, usually the second half of districts. Today, it's 11. Corn (which is rather expensive), grain, and potatoes. Mom said that she had to buy the food a bit at a time and preserve it well because 11 food, when available, is really hard to come by.

Paige really likes foreign district food, and digs in. Me, I don't care too much as long as I eat something.

Nevertheless, the food is good. Satisfied, I say goodnight, and head upstairs to my room.

Pretty much the only thing that could go wrong is if someone I know, or myself, gets reaped, but I quickly shove the thought away.

Don't think about it now, I tell myself.

 _Why not, it's a distinct possibility._

Be quiet and let me sleep, will you?

* * *

 **Axlynn 'Ax' Birch, 15**

 **District 7 Female**

* * *

8 days, I think, until I turn 16. And also _that_. _And_ also 1 day until the Reaping.

My mind internally starts to panic, but I stop it. If I even get picked, I'll think about strategy then.

I change out of my night clothes, and head down to breakfast, nearly stumbling on the steps, my ankle crying out, still sore from rolling it while defending Aspen when someone got mad, _totally not because we pranked him_. I hear someone, or rather, some _thing_ , walking behind me.

I turn, and pet Bark on the head.

She pants, probably wanting her food.

"Come on, Bark! Food is ready."

I bet the only words she recognized are 'Bark' and 'food'. Nevertheless, Bark understood the general idea, padding over to his food tray.

Right before I get to the drawer holding Bark's food, my mom slips out from behind somewhere and gets in front of me. Again.

"Too slow?" Mom teases me, while fake-poking me.

"Nah, you're too fast," I reply.

Mom just rolls her eyes and gets Bark's food.

Willow, my mom, tends to do that to me a lot. I'm used to it by now.

"And get ready for the store to open up," mom calls over her shoulder as she pours Bark some food.

* * *

 **Donovan Berkley, 17**

 **District 7 Male**

* * *

Maybe I should adopt an optimistic view of life.

Remember when I said I would worry about the Reapings only on that day?

I lied. My mind, while not completely stuck on it, it _is_ thinking about the Reapings a fair bit.

But, even if I do get reaped, I could do something, right? I can, well ok, _sort of_ , throw axes, and can definitely use axes in hand-hand combat, given some practice, as I've only used axes before for chopping. I can hide my emotions pretty well, lie naturally, who wouldn't like my chances if I were sent to the arena?

Still, I wouldn't want to go anyway.

I silently put my silverware down, making sure that my family doesn't suspect that I was thinking of anything, and put my plate into the kitchen sink.

Excusing myself, I head outside because I can't stand being inside anymore. Dad's already left for work, but mom is home and can take care of Paige.

After walking somewhat aimlessly for an indeterminate amount of time, I end up at the front door to the grocery store. I guess I could pick up some items, mom would appreciate it, I think.

I remember we were short on fruit, and since tonight we're going to have 12 food, which, from what mom thinks of 12, tends to be simple food.

Grabbing a bottle of milk and a larger fish, along with a few apples, I buy the items and head home. Total, the items were nearly 14 Panerai, leaving me essentially bankrupt for the moment, holding only two Panerii in my hand.

Whatever. Mom will be happy that I got food and saved her a trip. Happiness, though, needs to be worked for. And it can all disappear in the blink of the eye.

 _Like the Reapings._

At least let me eat my lunch in peace.

* * *

 **Axlynn 'Ax' Birch, 15**

 **District 7 Female**

* * *

"Everything will be alright," I say, emotionlessly, to a small calf.

"You want to help us, right? You're going to do fine."

I guide the calf into dad's 'Death Room,' as Aspen first called it, and then hurry out.

Let's see. Dad's doing his stuff and won't need another animal for a bit. Aspen's at the counter, I'll go check on her and see if she needs help or anything. Not like it's usually hectic at this time of day, but whatever.

"Hey, everything alright, Aspen?"

"Just fine. A few people here and there."

"You do remember that dad raised the price -"

"Of course, I remember all the changes he made to the prices. Like, all two."

"And you do remember that we should expect more people tonight?"

"Duh, yes, people are buying stuff because they're all overconfident that no one they know will get reaped."

"I don't want you to go, not like this."

She doesn't respond. There is nothing to respond to. You can't protect against the reapings, the best you can do is not to take tessare. If Aspen gets reaped, it's essentially game over for her.

Finished talking, I head back into our home, in the back of the store.

* * *

 **Donovan Berkley, 17**

 **District 7 Male**

* * *

I wish phones were more commonplace in 7. If they were, I'd call over Martin and Bettina, mainly so I could do something to distract me from the worry. I found out the hard way that axes don't help me to stop thinking about it, but I do it anyway. I can hold in my emotions and thoughts.

Really, there's no reason for me to practice ax throwing, though, not unless you're a Career or something. Chopping is the stuff you have to know here, though.

Well, not _have_ to, but lumber is our industry. The people not in lumber, they say, just keep the lumberjacks alive to do their job.

More like, they keep all of us alive. Every shop is important, in some way.

But, in the Capitol's eyes, we just sustain the Capitol. Nearly no one here, save the victors, know what the Capitol is really like, there are suspicions that what they show on television is the Capitol at its best, not necessarily what it actually is.

I sigh, as I chop a piece of wood like a tree, sideways, using a device to hold the wood in place so it doesn't go flying off.

"Can I try?" I hear Paige, somewhere behind me and to the right.

"Sure, I guess."

I put down my ax, and sit down on a bench. Dad wants me to watch my sister whenever she's using an ax, just in case anything goes wrong. But I don't worry for her too much. She's not had any accidents.

The only thing she can't get is how to put the piece of wood onto the device. I sigh, and show her how to open it, by pushing on the release mechanism to open it, sliding the log in, and closing it.

Paige swings away. It takes her three swings to chop the log down. I grin, place another log in, and after I make sure I won't hit my sister, I slice the log clean in two.

"As I said, you just have to get stronger," I tell my pouting sister.

But then, mom peeks her head out.

"Dinner?"

Both Paige and I grin. We set our axes in the shed, and head inside.

* * *

 **Axlynn 'Ax' Birch, 15**

 **District 7 Female**

* * *

"You charged right?" Father asks.

"Of course," I say, through a mouth of food.

"Don't talk with -" mom and dad both start to say, then they both stop and look at each other.

"- your mouth full." dad finishes.

I swallow. "Of course," I repeat, "Aspen?"

She just rolls her eyes. "Yeah."

"I need to make sure we charge right. Too expensive, and we'll lose customers, but too cheap, and we'll not get enough money, so we won't be able to buy those _reaping clothes._ " Dad trails.

"You got them?" I ask?

"Think so. But mom got them."

"Thanks!"

"Now, remember," mom says, "this has to last for your 18 year old self as well, so don't wear it out too much."

I hurry through my meal, so I can try out the outfit I got.

Besides the reaping, the outfit will probably also be used at formal events, etcetera, but whatever. All I have to do is not suffer a panic attack tomorrow.

* * *

 **Donovan Berkley, 17**

 **District 7 Male**

* * *

As expected, 12 was simple. A cup of milk for everyone, a piece of fish meat, sized proportionally for everyone, and an apple. Essentially, the stuff I bought in the afternoon.

If people in 12 actually eat like this every day, I'd be bored to death. But I don't let my feeling for the food show. Dad would clobber me for disrespect.

Since the food isn't much at any rate, I finish quickly, and then head upstairs, yes, to bed, but also, to think.

Reaping is at 10:30 AM, tomorrow. All the reaping stuff starts at 7:30 AM, which means I'll probably miss 1 or 2. But I don't know if I'll even watch.

Every year, there are emotional kids on the stage, and it hurts to watch, and, even though I'm great at controlling my emotions, the scenes threaten to break me.

But, I guess I'll let fate decide if I watch or not. I'm just going to sleep some.

* * *

 **Axlynn 'Ax' Birch, 15**

 **District 7 Female**

* * *

Immediately after getting up, I glance at the clock. _7:42 AM_. Reapings have started in 1 already. Whatever.

I get up and practically run to my dresser, where I grab my reaping outfit. Sure, green and brown is severely overdone in 7, but the different color specks here and there make a nice touch. They remind me of fruits, although that's 11's industry. But it's close enough to a tree that the colors are more decoration than district indicative.

The outfit is a green shirt with ruffles at the edges, and brown pants, so I sort of look like a tree, but dignified. My grandma, before she died, told me that 7 used to have a stylist that was so boring, that in the Parade, the tributes were trees for 16 years straight.

Aspen and I leave our rooms at the same time. She does not resemble a tree, instead, she's wearing a dress that is black at the top, but transitions to sky-blue at the bottom. The top of the dress is studded with white. It reminds me of the sky, and night, and all the stars you can see.

We eat breakfast slowly, probably because it's Reaping day, because when we're done, dad's saying how 3 is starting, which means it must be about 8:30.

No one works on Reaping day, at least, in the morning. Usually, though, the stores will be open again at about 2, when the Reapings and the commentator's analysis of the them are over.

Looking up from my meal, I see Aspen gone, and hear vomiting sounds from our bathroom. Morning sickness.

I continue eating, knowing that Aspen will be alright in a bit. I just hope she doesn't get any barf on her dress.

* * *

 **Donovan Berkley, 17**

 **District 7 Male**

* * *

Fate has decided that I will not watch. It would be bad publicity to everyone I know if they see me with red eyes.

Our house is about an hour's walk from the Square, so we'll go at about 9 and get there at about 10, which would make us 30 minutes early.

I scrape my dish, and glance at the clock, which says 8:54 AM.

In about 5 more minutes, everyone's ready to go. Dad opens the door, and we walk to the Square.

Maybe half-way there, Paige starts complaining that her legs are sore. That's better than last year, if I recall, it was much earlier.

The bad thing is, she's heavier now, so she's less convenient to carry, so we tell her to walk as far as she possibly can, and if she falls, dad will catch her.

Paige then dramatically fakes falling, and I crack a smile.

When I get there, Paige being carried for maybe a bit more than half of the remaining distance, I hug my family, and check in.

* * *

 **Axlynn 'Ax' Birch, 15**

 **District 7 Female**

* * *

I don't know, but maybe this is really the scariest part of the Reaping. Checking in. The needle.

The reason, I guess, is that everyone will get that prick, while only two people will actually be shipped to the Capitol.

Aspen gets pricked right after me, and we walk silently together to the girl's side, Aspen stopping earlier than me to slip into the 17 year old section. I slip into my own section, just when Markus, our newish escort, steps up to the stage.

* * *

 **Johnathan Wilford**

 **Head Gamemaker**

* * *

Now halfway through the Reapings, 12 kids have already been reaped, 12 more yet to go.

District 7's escort, who was he? Who was after Hadria? I run through my fingers, but can't come up with the name for quite a while.

In fact, it's only after the reaping video, speech, introduction of current victors from 7, etcetera, that I remember. Markus. This is only his second year, but he's already got the hang of what to do. While never saying it, he surely plays the angle of not rebelling, or they'll get squashed.

Markus walks over to the ladies' bowl. What he did last year was pick the first slowly and the second quickly. The only reason I remember is because he was saying stuff all through the slow pick.

This time, though, Markus grabs the first slip his fingers encounter and walks back to the microphone.

* * *

 **Axlynn 'Ax' Birch, 15**

 **District 7 Female**

* * *

I feel everyone take a collective breath, and then Markus announces the name. It's not me. A wave of relief washes over me, until the name sinks in further. Aspen Oaklee was reaped.

Just like that, all my relief vanishes, and I panic. Why am I panicking? I wasn't picked. But I remember my thoughts, from yesterday. Aspen is pregnant. If she goes, it's game over. And, another thought hits me. If Aspen goes, there will not be 24 tributes. There will be 25.

Before I know what happens, peacekeepers march past me and grab Aspen, who, while not fighting back, is not being very cooperative.

No. I can't let Aspen go. She can't!

I pour out all my emotion into saying two simple words. "I volunteer!"

I step out of my section, and walk up to the stage. The peacekeepers let go of Aspen, thankfully.

I'm surprisingly not filled with much emotion or tears right now. But I do know that I saved two lives.

 _No, only one. Not if you don't return._

And my conscience is right. But, at least, I saved one.

* * *

 **Donovan Berkley, 17**

 **District 7 Male**

* * *

The volunteer girl steps up to the microphone without prompting.

"My name is Axlynn Birch. Ax for short."

 _Funny_ , I think.

I glance to the left of me to try to find the reaped girl. She's crying. But I notice something odd about her. She looks pregnant.

That might be a motivation, to cause a 15 year old to volunteer for someone much older.

I ponder the situation, vaguely aware of Markus saying something while swirling his hand in the boy's bowl, like he did to the girls last year.

Still thinking, I'm blasted from my thoughts with a name, but I missed it. I turn my head to try to find the person who has been reaped, but find a lot of eyes staring at me.

Dumb luck. I got reaped, didn't I.

Control. Control. Keep what I want to say away.

After receiving confirmation that I was reaped, by a second calling of my name, I step out, putting on my best smile. As I walk, I wave to the cameras who are filming this entire thing. Some people stare at me like I'm an idiot, but I have to. Best way to earn sponsors, right here. Don't be afraid.

I step up, and Markus wraps the District 7 Reapings up, announcing our names once more, and having me shake hands with Ax.

But if I'm going to win, I'm going to have to get a real ax.

* * *

 **Johnathan Wilford**

 **Head Gamemaker**

* * *

7 tends to have pretty good tributes compared to pretty much all of the second half districts, probably because their industry is lumber, which uses axes, which are great weapons.

But, this year, the tributes are just strange.

The girl, Axlynn, if I recall, volunteers, seemingly desperately, but is very composed on stage. She volunteered for someone two years older. I'll consider what that means later. More importantly, perhaps, is that, while it was definitely hard to tell, she seemed to be limping ever so slightly. Maybe that's her natural gait, or maybe she's hurt. But if it's that slight, I have no question that it will heal in a week.

Donovan is just crazy. That's all I can say. He was reaped, he smiled, like he's been waiting to be reaped for his whole life, waves to the cameras, still smiling. I have no clue what's going on in his mind. He either really doesn't care that he's going to his death, or he's a _crazy_ good actor.

I hear the commentators also talking about 7 rather excitedly, but I don't want to be influenced by others. I make my own thoughts and decisions.

My attention, as well as what must be millions, around the country, turn our attention to District 8.

* * *

 **Axlynn 'Ax' Birch, 15**

 **District 7 Female**

* * *

I bet some people are going to be glad to see me gone. With me gone, there's no one who will protect Aspen, so all the pranks will stop.

Why am I thinking about pranks now?

More importantly, I'm going to turn 16 on the day the games start. I can imagine the Capitol.

 _Happy Birthday, Axlynn. Our birthday present to you is that you get to be thrown into the 113th Hunger Games. Never mind that you could die in minutes. Enjoy!_

My whole family, mom, dad, Aspen, come together. Aspen just thanks me and gives me a crushing hug. Well, at least she's happy, and she's safe. Mom and dad are sad too, but I bet they're ok with the decision I made.

"Ax?" mom says.

I mutely look up.

"That was a brave thing you did. Brave people win the games."

 _Not always,_ I think, but it's encouraging. If I can pull myself together, maybe, I'll have a fighting chance.

Mom, even though she's a great teaser, can't think of anything else to say. Aspen is surely overcome by emotions, and dad isn't one for small talk. We just sit in silence, until they have to go.

 _Just be brave_ , I tell myself, _and try your best._

* * *

 **Donovan Berkley, 17**

 **District 7 Male**

* * *

Family always gets first priority. My parents, and Paige.

In their presence, I start to vent out my pent up emotions. I let a tear fall, but make sure not to cry openly.

Paige starts talking, but I stop her.

"I know. Axes are my hope."

Paige only nods. "Practice throwing?"

"Of course." One more tear.

"Donovan," dad starts, "use your strength. District 7 has had many victors because of strength. Chopping wood gives 7 an advantage. Use it," he finishes gravely.

I nod, but the peacekeeper opens the door, and I quickly wipe my eyes, hoping to hide any tears. I nod, going for a 'they can go' expression, which I hope looks convincing. My family hugs me once more, and then leave.

Friends are second priority, up to three at a time.

Martin and Bettina come in. Always the optimist, Bettina says, "Well, you happy you practiced throwing axes?"

I chuckle lightly, not an acting chuckle, a real one.

"You are able to do this. Just get an axe, and . . . and . . . oh, listen to whoever your mentor is for the rest." Martin finishes clumsily.

I nod. Neither of them have any more advice, so they leave by themselves, leaving me alone for a bit.

I silently cry out my tears, making sure that I don't wipe them on my shirt, as that would give away that I was crying. By the time I have to board the train, I am fully ready, smile and all.

* * *

 **So I just want to apologize for how long this chapter took. I was busy for Tuesday through Thursday, and it's not going to get better, as I have two camps coming, one taking for two weeks, then teaching one for three weeks. Needless to say, updates might be sporadic, but I will try to finish this. I really will.**

 _ **How are District 7's chances in the games overall?**_ _ **Will Donovan be able to keep his winning attitude through training week and beyond? How about Axlynn, and her attempt to be brave? Did you see her volunteering while reading? General comments? And of course, for those who submitted Donovan and Axlynn, did they meet your expectations?**_


	9. District 8 Reapings: Friska & Toby

**Here's District 8, the textile district. AKLNxStories submitted the male, Mystery-Takes-Its-Tole submitted the female. Thanks to both of them. Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Friska Heathrow, 16**

 **District 8 Female**

* * *

I navigate the cloth through the machine carefully, but making sure the sleeve is on securely.

Taking the unfinished jacket out, I look at the sleeve that I just sewed on. Perfect.

I've done this job for 10 months now, and I think I'm good at my job now, thanks to Mika Stallone. He's a great friend, and since he happens to be the son of a factory owner, he got me this job, which helps support my family.

Scratch that, me and my mom. I don't know my dad, or even if he's alive, and I don't have siblings.

The pay is enough, barely, to live on, for the two of us, 85 Panerai a week. I'm set to get more when I get older, but that's as much as I can get paid for being only 16 years of age.

I grab a right sleeve, and sew it carefully on, emphasis on _carefully_ , finishing my part of the jacket. After examining the jacket once more, I hand it over to the next person in line.

Even though I do my work carefully, I still have to wait in the assembly line for a minute or more before I receive the next jacket.

I'm aware of the work of the people around me, the regular patterns of the workers, the sounds of the machines, the swinging window high above me that, on windy days, catches the wind and opens and closes by itself, and, of course, the occasional sneeze echos through the large factory.

I realize I'm nearly jumping up and down, and my thumbs are toying with each other. I stop immediately.

How much longer will Galatia take to finish? Out of the 149 jackets I've sewn sleeves on, 122 of them have been stalled by her.

I lean over. "Galatia, I'm like, really, well, bored right now, and if you could hurry up, I'd like that because the sound of the window opening and closing is getting annoying to listen to, I've watched practically everyone, my hands will fall off if I play with them any longer, the floor is boring to examine, and my machine has been idle for too long. I've counted the people one at a time, two at a time, three at a time, grouped them by color clothing, color hair, height, apparent weight (no offense), speed, and type of job. I've also -"

I'm silenced when Galatia hands me the sleeveless jacket. "If I count correctly, this is the 122nd time you've given me that speech. Cut your energy, and talk slower. You're lucky you've been my friend for as long as I can remember, or I wouldn't be able to understand your fast-talk."

I reprimand myself for the 122nd time. "I'm sorry, really really sorry, Galatia."

"And I expect a thousand more sorries before the day's done," Galatia says jokingly.

I sigh, and start on the 150th jacket, all the while, telling myself to control myself. Control my ADHD.

* * *

 **Toby Amador, 15**

 **District 8 Male**

* * *

I eat lunch quietly, as normal, but take in my family. We sit around the table with the three kids on one side, and parents on the other.

Emeda and Easton, my younger twin siblings, sit together, and I'm on the other side of Easton.

Sometimes, I feel that Emeda and Easton leave me out on a lot of things that they do. But, I guess, it's natural for twins to do that. Also, I guess that because I don't really initiate talking to them, they just talk about stuff themselves.

But I'm ok with it, I suppose.

I finish up, put my dishes away and try to leave my twin siblings to their own conversation.

"Toby?" Emeda calls. Ok. Never mind.

"Emeda," I ask, "what do you want me for?"

"I want to talk. You're always like this before the reaping."

"Like what?"

"You're more quiet than normal, and you just feel more distant." Easton says.

I sigh. Sometimes, they can read me too well. "Look, in two days, I should be back to normal. I . . . just want time alone."

"You've been alone practically forever, Toby," Emeda says.

"Two days, ok?" I say, clearly wanting to end discussion. Easton and Emeda pick this up, apparently, and stop asking.

I thank mom for the meal quickly, and head to my room, making both mom frown, but says anything. Dad is obviously not home, but at work.

I sit on the edge of my bed, basically doing nothing, for a while, mostly just so I can be alone.

The Reaping is the hardest part, even though there's not a great chance of me, or anyone else being reaped. The scary part is that minuscule chance that Emeda or Easton get reaped, or for that matter, the chance that _I'm_ reaped.

I mentally curse myself. I'm not thinking of my friends. Ivory Holland and Wesley Nelanda are also important to me. And sometimes, it seems that I connect better to them than to my family. Maybe the better thing to do instead of mope around thinking of how I failed my friends is to talk to _them_ about it.

I get up, and quietly tell my mom what I'm doing. I get a glimpse of the clock as I head out. 2:30 PM. I've been in my room for more than an hour.

* * *

 **Friska Heathrow, 16**

 **District 8 Female**

* * *

My summer work schedule has me working until 3:30 PM, which is pretty good. If not for this job being boring and repetitive, I made 319 shirts, each exactly the same way, this job is pretty good.

 _Wow, that's a colorful bird . . . OOH, a rabbit. Maybe if I walk a little faster I can . . . aww, that bird has a nest in the tree about 50 feet ahead of me . . ._

I force myself to stop. This cannot end well.

"Don't tell me, the bird and the rabbit were overloading your mind," Galatia says beside me.

"Uh . . ." I trail.

"I'm right, am I? I don't know what you think, but _calm down_. Also, stop thumb-warring yourself."

I look down, and realize that Galatia is right, and my thumbs have been doing who knows what for the entire walk.

"Thanks, Galatia, and bye!" I say, as we reach my house. Galatia's house is farther down the road than mine from the factory we work at.

"And stay calm, even if the dishes are overloading! I'll be back to help out!" Galatia calls out.

I'm really glad for Galatia, she calms me when my ADHD is acting up, and she's there for most of my day.

I go inside and immediately start doing the chores because mom doesn't do any of it. She's probably sleeping the day away.

 _I'd better start with vacuuming, the floor is really dirty. The vacuum is in the - OH darn, the closet is a mess. I'd better straighten this up. Coats here, sweaters here, what's this lump in this sweater's pocket? Trash, I'd better throw this away. As a matter of fact, I'd better take out the trash. Trash day is tomorrow. Oh no, the sink is a mess. Better'd do the dishes. Wait, where did I put that piece of trash? How'd it get on the ground? I'll just vacuum - RIGHT, the vacuum. I should get that out now. Ignore the mess in the closet. Ignore everything else. Just vacuum. Wait, since when was the pictures so crooked? I'd better straighten them._

All of a sudden, I hear the doorbell. Galatia. No doubt, she was watching me doing chores from the window.

"Friska! You have to finish what you're doing, or you'll never get anything done!" Galatia exclaims, once I open the door."

Uh...

Galatia, once again, begins her lecture, somehow accurately pointing out what probably distracted me, what I did, etcetera, while I ask myself why it's so hard for me to just do one simple thing to its entirely.

* * *

 **Toby Amador, 15**

 **District 8 Male**

* * *

I definitely made the wrong turn somewhere. I don't recognize this area of 8. Then again, the only places I am frequently is the area around my house, Ivory and Wesley's houses, the school, and the square.

It might be a better idea not to continue walking forward, and instead, try to backtrack.

But instead, it just gets me more lost. I must be in the richer part of town, not the Village, but possibly in that area. Maybe if I find the Village, then I'll find the square close to it.

After an eternity of walking in circles, I find the Village, and after a second eternity, I find the Square, and from there to Wesley's house, as his is closer to the Square.

I reach his door and knock, before being forced by my own body to sit down.

Mrs. Nelanda opens the door, and sees me.

"My, Toby, why are you out of breath? It's not a long walk from your house to here."

"Got lost."

"Sure looks like it. Come on inside."

I force myself to get up, and walk in, before collapsing onto a chair. There's a clock in the room, the living room, that says 4:47.

I've been wandering around for over two hours?

After getting strength back, I head down the stairs to find Wesley, who is a year older than myself, when he comes up himself.

"Oh, hi Toby. You're here because . . .?"

"Well . . ." I being, unsteadily, "do you think . . . that I'm not a good friend?"

Wesley gives me a strange look. "When'd you think you weren't? You're a great friend, if not rather quiet."

Too late to back out now. "Before I left home, I forgot . . . to think of you."

"What?" Wesley says, confused.

I try my best to push away my shyness. "I thought about what would happen if someone I cared for . . ."

Somehow, Wesley catches on when I can't continue. "Got reaped?"

I only mutely nod in response.

"And you didn't think of your friends? That's what you meant?" Wesley asks.

Still mute, I nod again.

Wesley seems to laugh to himself. "Toby, we all forget sometimes. Don't worry. You would come visit me if I got reaped, right?"

"Yeah, but . . . don't get reaped. I don't want to lose anyone."

Wesley snorts in response. "No one wants to lose anyone. That's the _point_ of the games. It makes us hurt. We get punished for what our great-grandfathers did 113 years ago."

The idea seems to stir something in me, but I force it down. "The videos they show us. The Capitol destroyed one district, they can do so to all of us."

"But someone, some day will stop this. I believe that the Capitol will be defeated sooner or later."

After some silence, I decide that I should head home. "Thanks, Wes."

"No problem. Heading home?"

I nod, then head back up the stairs, out the door, make sure to turn at the right places, and get home just in time to catch dinner.

* * *

 **Friska Heathrow, 16**

 **District 8 Female**

* * *

After the chores are _finally_ completed, thanks to Galatia, I grab some food that takes little preparation, and soon have it ready. Galatia goes home, and mom and I eat.

"Mom?" I ask, making sure I swallow first.

"Yes, Friska?"

"It would be really good if you could go to your job, and not stay home all the time, because then we wouldn't have to manage our money so strictly if you worked, and it would give you something to do instead of sitting in your chair all day, and I would like help with chores, as I do all of them and you don't help me one bit, and if it wasn't for Galatia, they would never be done, because I get distracted so often because of ADHD, and the house would be cleaner more often and you could get fresh air and -"

I stop myself when I realize that mom is really confused. I must have been talking at light speed.

I take a deep breath, and force my words to go slower.

"Point is, if you went to work, and helped me with chores, it would be better on the whole for all of us."

Mom's face turns red, and I know what's coming. "You _will_ learn to show respect to your mom. Listen to what I say. I don't want to do chores, so naturally, you have to do them. I don't want to walk to the factory _a mile away_ , so you have to earn money for both of us." mom says, grinning.

I'm ready to go crazy against my mom, but I catch myself, knowing it will be useless.

"Fine. I'm going to my room." I say, taking my food with me.

An idea hits me which hasn't occurred to me for the 6 years I've had to work like this. If I stop doing chores, which mom _technically_ can't force me to, and I also keep all the money I earn for myself, I'll have all the leverage to make my mom help me.

I go to bed, thinking about this. I'll ask Galatia at work tomorrow.

* * *

 **Toby Amador, 15**

 **District 8 Male**

* * *

It's odd thinking of rebellion. I've lived this way for my whole life, so did my parents, and their parents, and all the way to our great-grandparents, which the videos keep showing how they were defeated.

But, what can _I_ do about it? I'm just a 15 year old boy in District 8. I can't overthrow the Capitol. Maybe, though, it might be possible some day, when I'm older.

I hear more activity than usual for downstairs, and start wondering what could possibly be going on downstairs, when I recall that mom and dad invited Ivory and her family over for breakfast, and they invited us to their home for dinner, as we normally do the day before the Reaping. Maybe it's just social time for if the impossible happens, but it's pretty good.

I change out of my night clothes before going to the kitchen, where I meet Ivory.

"Hey, Toby!" Ivory greets me.

"Hi, Ivory," I greet back, sitting down at the table.

Both our family and theirs have prepared a larger breakfast, using food that's hard to get. Some eggs, cornbread, meat slices, and some colored water that tastes good, which I've never seen before. Different colors taste different, which is interesting.

We all grab food and eat, and the parents talk, but I prefer to eat in silence.

Emeda, though, sits next to me and seems to be trying to nudge me towards Ivory.

"Emeda, what are you doing?"

"Go talk, you're too depressing sometimes."

I sigh, and stand up to sit next to Ivory.

"Toby! Finally decided to talk?"

"More like Emeda forced me to."

"I heard that!" Emeda half-shouts from the other side of the room.

I scowl at Emeda, before turning back to Ivory. Small talk, I guess. Not my thing.

* * *

 **Friska Heathrow, 16**

 **District 8 Female**

* * *

I'm halfway to the factory, excited to tell Galatia of my idea, that I'm actually focused on the factory and not my surroundings, when someone grabs me by the right shoulder and forcibly spins me around. Off-balance, I tumble to the ground, and my left knee starts complaining, and my mind becomes slightly woozy. Glancing at my knee, it probably got cut, and I think I hit my head on the ground as well.

I look up at my attacker, a slightly overweight man whose face radiates anger.

"You judge people by their stature, or by their 'apparent weight?'"

He must have heard me yesterday. My mind automatically recalls that he wore a red and dark yellow striped shirt and regular blue jeans yesterday. He also works on jackets, a different part, of course, which would explain how he could have overheard me.

"Sir . . ." I stutter, because now, I'm terrified, "I meant no offense, but I was -"

"You don't do that to people! I think I'll teach you a lesson."

But before he can do anything else, I see movement out of my peripheral vision, a person I think, and then, something, a large rock, I think, hits him on the head, hard, and he collapses, apparently unconscious.

I get up, my mind clearer now, and look around to see who threw the rock, which I now see plainly on the ground. I stare right into the face of Monique Palos.

"Oh, uh, thanks for saving me, Monique."

"No problem. Peacekeepers?"

"Actually, I have to go to work. It's every day but Sunday."

Monique's face darkens. "You know I need that job."

"I need it as well."

"I have more people to support than you."

"But you have help supporting! My mom doesn't contribute _anything_."

"Whatever. If you have to, I'll get a Peacekeeper and tell him or her what happened. The said peacekeeper will probably want to ask you some questions too, so be ready for that afterwards."

"Alright, and I really thank you, Monique."

"No problem, but I would like a job."

"There are other jobs out there," I say, before heading off to work. But one thought crosses my mind as I enter the factory. _My ADHD didn't seem to affect me at all, except that I had better awareness once I was knocked down and attentive. I don't think I would have seen the movement otherwise. Maybe I can figure out how to concentrate myself._

* * *

 **Toby Amador, 15**

 **District 8 Male**

* * *

After Ivory's family leaves at about 11:15, mom immediately brings out the last of the special food we have stored up, and starts cooking for our special dinner and lunch at the same time. The day before the Reaping is probably the only time where I can eat to a satisfied stomach, not to say that we're completely poor, but we all limit ourselves to one serving every meal.

I hear giggling, and see Easton looking at me funnily.

"What?"

"Your face . . ." Easton chokes out.

Oh dear. That can't be good. I go to the bathroom mirror, and see that the sauce on the meat must have smeared my right cheek, because it's colored reddish-brown.

I grab a towel, wet it, and then wash my face, especially my right cheek. After that, I decide to take myself in. I look like the average poor family District 8 boy. Short, blond hair, greenish-blue eyes, and pale skin.

I head back to our small living room and ask Easton, "Better now?"

Easton grins. "Much. Checkers?"

With nothing better to do, I agree.

I'm much better than he is, and we both know that, so we default to the rule that I must make my move within five counts, while Easton can take as much time as he needs, realistically speaking, of course.

In this 'handicap' version, we're roughly even, Easton I guess winning slightly more than me, but it doesn't matter too much, the fact that I can actually beat him while using minimal thinking and more intuition is pretty good.

After several games, Emeda comes in, sees that we're playing, and asks to play Easton. Emeda receives the same handicap as me, as she's at about the same level at playing as me, which used to surprise me, but now I'm just used to it, and don't think much of it.

I watch in amusement. Emeda seems to be having better success against Easton, winning more times than not.

After Easton gets tired, I play Emeda myself, no handicaps, so it's a long game, and it ends in a draw, just as we're called to late lunch at 1:00, late, of course, because Ivory's family was over.

But it being 1:00 reminds me that, in 24 hours, our District reapings will start. And remembering the Reapings reminds me of all the rebellion ideas that Wesley had, but I push it out of the way for now. If I do want to rebel, it's after I'm older. Maybe 25, perhaps.

* * *

 **Friska Heathrow, 16**

 **District 8 Female**

* * *

I remember that I was completely focused on the man, and while I've tried focusing before and failed, it seemed that it worked that time, which, I guess, is because I was scared out of my mind. But I don't want to remember the incident. I sigh. At least, I've learned not to say my thoughts loudly, maybe a whisper to Galatia, by the way, what's taking her so long?

"Don't even start," Galatia says, handing me the jacket.

"You knew?"

"Your face gave it _all_ away."

"What was my face like?"

"The 'I'm so bored because Galatia is taking forever' face."

"You know that face?"

"Yes, you use it practically every single workday. Now do your work."

I sigh, and let my hands use memory to attach the sleeves onto the jacket, only looking down when I have to inspect the jacket, and even then, it's the same motions. Every single time.

After finishing that jacket, I remember what I actually intended to tell Galatia, but I forgot about it given the incident.

"Galatia," I begin, "what's that word where workers refuse to work?"

"Uh, a strike, I think. Why?"

I grin, and share my plan.

* * *

 **Toby Amador, 15**

 **District 8 Male**

* * *

"I played enough checkers today," I tell Easton, who somehow is ready to play again after lunch, "if you want to play something different, sure, but I can't play any more checkers."

I realize how much checkers _somehow_ took out of me, so I say, "I think I'll just take a nap."

"A nap? At 1:52 PM?"

Ok, yeah, that does sound odd. But I'm just tired for some reason, and I tell Easton that.

"Uh, have fun, err, sleeping!" Easton grins.

I sigh, and walk to my room, and plop on the bed.

Only to get rudely awakened seconds later by dad.

"Time to get up, son. You've been sleeping since about 2, and it's now, um, what time is it? Anyway, it's about 5:30 and time to head over to the Holland's house for dinner. Mom needs you to carry some food."

I roll over, forcing myself to get up, but once I do, my tiredness seems to evaporate.

"That's a good boy. Now, come on!"

I head downstairs and grab a box of food. Everyone's about ready now, so we head to Ivory's house together. One more good meal awaits, then, the next day, the Reaping.

* * *

 **Friska Heathrow, 16**

 **District 8 Female**

* * *

When I exit the factory, I notice that a Peacekeeper is waiting at the front door.

"Are you one Frisky Hearthren?"

That's probably the worst pronunciation of my name I've ever heard. "Friska Heathrow. And yes."

"I need to ask you some questions. Do you know Scye Trimmer?"

"The name is not familiar."

"He's the man who assaulted you. Have you seen him before?"

"Yes, he works at this factory. He wore a striped shirt, red and yellow, I believe, and jeans, the day before, he -"

"I don't need to hear what he wore every day. Did you get injured?"

I show him my cut on my knee. "Hit my head, too."

"What'd he do?"

"He spun me by my shoulder, and I toppled. Probably was going to do more, but then, I saw someone, who I now know to be Monique, do something and then a rock slammed into the man's face and he crumpled."

"Alright, you just told me all I needed to know before I needed to ask you. It all checks out. If you're interested, he's probably going to get either five days in the stocks or 50 lashes."

After the Peacekeeper lets me go, I prance home, stopping often to note whatever, letting ADHD take control. At this point, I'd rather not fight it, as I feel that it might ruin the mood of the day.

I stray from the path often, and by the time I get home, it's 4:22, meaning I took nearly an hour to get home.

"Finally back, Friska?" I hear, "chores need doing."

"And so they do," I respond, while trying to not freak out, "but I'm not doing them. A strike is on order. I'm going."

I hear the wind whistle behind me as I walk away from my house, to an undetermined location.

* * *

 **Toby Amador, 15**

 **District 8 Male**

* * *

A few minutes _after_ 5:30, we leave our house for the roughly 20 minute walk to Ivory's. Easton and Emeda chat the entire way there. I trail behind them, deliberately not getting involved. It actually works, as neither of my siblings ask my anything en route.

And, of course, when we get to their house, they tell me to have fun on the day before the Reaping.

But it's hard to. The Reaping is very scary.

 _That's what rebellion would get rid of._

I see. But, as I said, I couldn't now.

We unpack our food and set it on the Holland's table, then, we all grab our share of food.

The parents socialize _a lot,_ as they always do, and both siblings are talking with Ivory. I'm content to sit on the floor by the fireplace, which is not on.

However, when I'm maybe 2/3 done with my meal, Ivory stops talking to my siblings, and comes over to sit next to me. No doubt, my siblings are at the root of this.

"Toby, don't be so antisocial."

"I . . . just don't want to talk."

"Exactly, that's being antisocial. Talk to me."

"Uhhhh . . . about what?" I say, feeling somewhat embarrassed that I don't have anything to talk about.

"Surely you have something interesting to talk about."

"Easton, Emeda, and I played checkers for many hours after you left our house this morning," I reply, for lack of more interesting things to talk about.

* * *

 **Friska Heathrow, 16**

 **District 8 Female**

* * *

That felt really good, oddly enough. Getting to dump the burden I carried for more than six years, I guess, is the reason. Well, that and seeing her reaction.

Because the mood's too good, I don't feel like stopping my wandering mind, like the trip to go home earlier. My feet eventually wander to Mika's house, and I think that I might as well talk to him while I'm here.

Mika is in the backyard, and I open the fence myself, knowing that he won't mind.

"Mika?"

He turns around, startled, before apparently realizing who I am, and calms himself. "Hi, Friska. I heard what happened to you this morning."

"Uugh, why did you have to get rid of the great feeling I had walking here," I say, while examining a blade of grass. "This one's yellow in the green field."

"What feeling did you have before you got here?"

"The feeling that - there's a red blade of grass?"

"What sort of feeling is that?"

"It's a red blade of grass! Look!"

Facepalming, Mika says, "Whoa there, don't get ahead of yourself. What did you feel like before you came here?"

"I went on a strike, and it felt great. Do you have any idea what would have caused grass to turn red?"

"Strike against . . . who?" Mika says, uncomfortably.

Realizing what I said to who, I quickly say, defensively, "No, no, no, not against your factory, I went on a strike against my mom."

His expression changes to a smile quickly. "Too much chores?"

"If I could focus, no. But when I can't, I - another blade of red grass!"

Mika takes my hand, and half-drags me to a nearby bench, sits me down, and then says, "Now, repeat what you said, without interruptions."

"Uh, what was it about?"

"I asked, did you go on strike because of too much chores?" He says, patiently.

That's what I like about Mika, and Galatia too. They're really patient with me when I get off-topic.

"That's right. If I could focus, then it wouldn't be. But usually, when I can't, all the chores get done to 10%. Enduring this for six years has become too much."

He nods, understanding. We continue talking, and what Mika did, sitting me on the bench, seems to also help stop my mind from going crazy. It doesn't work _all_ the time, but it's much better than being in a field of grass, apparently.

"Do you have the time?" I interject suddenly, after some time.

Glancing down, Mika says, "6:11. Why?"

"I'd better get home now, I've been here for a while."

"Alright, see you at the Reaping tomorrow."

I walk back home, this time, restraining myself to the best of my ability. When mom hears me back, she says, "Strike already over? I'm hungry."

"Make your own food. I'm going to bed," and I close and lock my door before I can hear any protest.

* * *

 **Toby Amador, 15**

 **District 8 Male**

* * *

The Reaping. Today. In about 6 hours.

I put on the same clothes I wore last year. A simple plaid shirt, with khaki pants.

I go downstairs for breakfast, and see that, even though it's about a quarter-past 7, everyone's already up. My siblings have just started breakfast.

I get some breakfast, say hi quietly to my siblings, and eat.

The Reapings don't start until 9:30, but Emeda and I don't watch. We just go to the Square when it's time, and once it's over, we head back home.

Easton and my parents, however, do watch the Reapings up to the end of 5. Then they use the hour we have left to eat and get to the Square.

I put my dishes away, and dad turns on the TV, which is filled with Pre-Reaping stuff, covering previous games and whatnot.

Emeda pulls out the checkers set, so we play while the Capitol stuff drones on.

Every once in a while, Easton pops in to share a bit of news that he found interesting.

"District 1 has a tribute who has three winning relatives!" Easton yells at us.

My quiet temperament disappears, irritated already. "Be quiet, I don't care, neither does Emeda."

"Yes, I don't," Emeda repeats.

Easton pouts. "I'll still come in to tell you stuff," apparently not noticing my change in demeanor.

"Don't bother," I grumble.

After Easton leaves, Emeda asks, "How did you do that?"

"Uh, the piece hopped here from there," I say, pointing.

"No, I mean, how did you actually yell at Easton? You rarely yell _at all_."

"I was irritated," I respond, dismissively.

"Even so, you don't act like that. Not in the 14 years I've known you."

I shrug. "He's done that every year, and every year, I don't care. Now, can we please play checkers?"

She nods, and makes her move.

* * *

 **Friska Heathrow, 16**

 **District 8 Female**

* * *

If you made a graph of my energy level for the 16 years I've been alive, you'd see four significant spikes in the middle of summer when I was 12 through 15. What is it?

Ok, ok, it can't be a big surprise that it's caused by the Reaping. And this year is no different. My energy was crazy, and before I knew what I was doing, I had started chores.

I put on my Reaping outfit, a knee-length skirt with a light-blue blouse.

After that, I went practically everywhere in the District to burn off the energy, letting ADHD take control to pass the time.

After an indeterminate amount of time walking, I run into Galatia with her family.

"Friska! What are you doing here?"

"Taking a walk."

"The Reaping is in 15 minutes."

"Yeah, the Reaping is in 15 minutes." I pause, "Wait, the Reaping is IN 15 MINUTES?!"

"Calm, calm, calm, Friska," Galatia says, but my energy, if it hasn't spiked already, it just did, because I take off for the Square faster than humanely possible.

I check in, still bouncing, which must have looked weird, as I might have portrayed that I was excited for the Reaping, and scan for Mika in the 18 year old crowd. In my heightened state of awareness, I find him quickly, and go over to him.

"Friska, is something wrong?" Mika asks, immediately.

"Too nervous," I say, still bouncing up and down.

"Could you try not to bounce, it looks really weird."

"I can't, I literally can't."

Mika gives an exasperated sigh, and turns away. I don't blame him, I am just like this before the Reaping.

I slide over to my own section, just as _someone_ walks up to the stage.

* * *

 **Johnathan Wilford**

 **Head Gamemaker**

* * *

Ahh, yes, Sabby.

She just moved up this year from District 11, I think. She's been at 11 for many years, so I don't know what she'll do.

But she seems comfortable up on the stage, even with a new crowd. She introduces herself, and promptly starts with the speech, introduction of victors, and the video, and then she goes over to the ladies ball, and selects one slip of paper.

* * *

 **Friska Heathrow, 16**

 **District 8 Female**

* * *

Someone here is going up to the stage, and already, I'm quivering, but right after the name is read, if it's not mine, as it will very likely be, my energy will crash. I don't know what will happen if my name is called. Just brace yourself, I say to myself.

"Our female tribute from Distirct 11 - excuse me, District 8 is," Sabby says, obviously flustered, at least now we know what District she came from, "Friska Heathrow!"

Wait, what?

The sky is blue. The ground is grey. The trees are green. The sun is yellow, but don't look into it. Don't look at the stage either. Wait, why am I _on_ the stage? My name was called. I don't remember walking here. Of course, I must not have walked, I must have hopped all the way. I'm still hopping. I can't stop. I can't stop my feet. I wonder what the cameras think of me.

Someone else is called, but I don't care who it is, as long as it's not Mika, and it isn't. The boy looks really pale and seems to be holding back tears. Tears? Am I crying? Maybe slightly, but I didn't notice.

I'm led into a room, velvet red. Also the color of blood.

The sky is still blue, but it has taken a darker shade, as if it might rain. No family would come for me, mom wouldn't. Oh, how I wish I didn't strike.

I see the faces of Galatia and Mika. They're saying something. I can't hear them, or maybe I can't focus. I pinch myself, hard, and actually make a small cut on my skin. But I will myself to focus, I'm absolutely terrified.

And all of a sudden, I focus on Galatia and Mika with such ease that I've never known before. I hear every word, catch every meaning. No distraction could break me from them.

"If your energy is so high," I hear, "you can use it to your advantage. Run to where you think is best, and try not to get distracted."

I want to tell them that I focused, it's such a big achievement, but, I missed most of what they said, and they're being taken away.

I think of home. It hurts, that cushion looks soft, I wonder - NO! You can't think of this stuff. Think of the games, think of how scared I am. I focus on it for five minutes. But that's four minutes longer than I've probably ever focused on something in my life.

And only one thought hits me. _I can control ADHD._

* * *

 **Toby Amador, 15**

 **District 8 Male**

* * *

In the waiting room, as I call it, I start to cry. I'm going to be torn from family, from friends, from everything and anything I've ever known.

How will I make it out?

I sob as my family comes in. Mom and dad have managed to hold together, but Emeda is crying. I remember how I yelled at Easton earlier today. I need to say sorry.

"Easton," I choke out, "sorry . . . for yelling at you . . ."

Easton sits next to me. "That's not important now, is it? The important thing is to know who's a threat and who's not. 1, 2, 4, obviously are threats, 5 maybe a minor threat, your best chance is in District 3 . . ."

Even though this is our last time together, I tune Easton out, I don't want to hear more. I don't want to ally with someone and backstab them later. If I ally, it would be a good alliance and we would part as friends.

I hug all my family before they're escorted out.

Ivory has obviously been crying, so, even though small talk is in no way my strong suit, I hug her too. "Ivory, I'm sorry I didn't get to talk to you more."

She sniffles. "It . . . it's ok. It's what . . . you are. Don't try to be who you aren't."

Ivory can't say any more, and I can't think of anything to say from my crazed brain. But as she leaves, I say bye.

There's only one more person who could be next. Wesley, and then his thoughts of rebellion hit me. If I'm going to the Capitol, I can technically reach everyone. It would be so easy to, as well. I may not make it out of the arena, but I would ensure no other kids would, right?

But doing this would take a lot of acting, and being brave and tough, and I'm not that person. Ivory said not to be someone who I'm not.

I say goodbye to Wesley, but tune him out when he talks about sparking revolt, although I don't rule it out altogether. I need time to think.

* * *

 **Johnathan Wilford**

 **Head Gamemaker**

* * *

What _is_ the girl doing?

I noticed her hopping up and down the entire Reaping, and when she was called, I don't even know how to describe it. She looked nervous, but I would guess, from years of watching Reapings, that her nervousness fed into jumpiness. It might be a big problem if she can't stay still in a tree, per say, when the Careers go by.

The boy is a typical lower-district boy, torn from family. Not much interesting with him, I'm afraid.

Before I forget, I write down my thoughts. I'll need to release an early-bird betting odds. They're worth more if you're right, which is why some just take a shot at betting here, because the winnings can be huge, because it's before the Parade, interviews, or training.

8 of 12 districts done, time for the last four.

* * *

 **There's District 8. Remember when I said I thought chapters would be getting shorter? (At least, I think I said that.) I lied. This is the longest chapter yet. Thanks to everyone who submitted great tributes which I could write over 6k, nearly 7k, on.**

 _ **How will Friska use/deal with her ADHD, and will it be an advantage? Will Toby try to spark rebellion, or will he follow Ivory's advice? And, of course, to the submitters, how was your character?**_


	10. District 9 Reapings: Tarragon & Samuel

**District 9 is here! AKLNxStories submitted the male, and roses burning submitted the female. Thanks to the two of them for these tributes. :)**

* * *

 **Tarragon 'Tarra' Amira Daen, 17**

 **District 9 Female**

* * *

"Go harder, run faster!" I hear mom shout.

Most kids are scared of the Reaping because of the Games and the consequences. Don't get me wrong, the Reaping _is_ scary, but I have more reason to fear it than most.

Panting, I reach the other side of the backyard, and look up at my mom. I'm sure she's having a fit of insanity, and the fits are really bad when it gets close to the games, and by extension, she forces me to 'train' harder. In my opinion, the training is not working well.

It's mostly running, climbing, and knife-wielding. Not much else.

Mom won the games at 15 nearly 25 years ago, losing two fingers of her left hand in the process. She lured 10 tributes in by a sense of innocence, and then murdered them by a knife in the chest. And after the games, and in the years following, mom was ordered by the Capitol, when she wasn't mentoring, to sell her own body. But after a dead body was found in the home of one of the people mom was sold to, that was stopped.

Both my father and I think that she lost her sanity in the Games, and the events following didn't help her much either. Now, she seems to be so insanely afraid that I'm going to get reaped that she practically forces me to train.

The question of my father at this time isn't helping me either. Rumors and some evidence have been found that would seem to indicate that Wheat Dally Daen is not dad. Thankfully, dad, or what I would not like to say, suspected dad, doesn't seem to care about the accusations. He still loves me like a daughter, and still loves mom, even through her insanity.

After I _somehow_ manage to get my mom to relent slightly, I go inside to drink some water. I'm parched.

I also snack a bit. Given that mom is a victor, we have plenty of food, so I don't need to conserve. That's probably the best and only thing that makes me glad mom's a victor. Otherwise, I would have given almost anything for her sanity back. We don't starve, unlike nearly the rest of District 9.

After I gulp down my water, I head to the living room and find dad, who no longer works, partially because he doesn't need to, and partially because it would be better if he didn't.

The latter because when mom goes into her fits, she's nearly uncontrollable. Even dad ended up losing vision from his left eye, and dad and I both have several scars from mom's fits. We've tried to keep all knives under lock and key for this reason, but sometimes there are oversights.

"Dad, mom . . ."

I know I don't need to say more. Dad gets up and heads to his room, and gets the tranquilizer, which always gets more use closer to the reaping, and then goes to the backyard, cautiously, for good reason.

I think mom really likes me, but her insanity and violence seems to dampen it. But, truthfully, if she died, I wouldn't be happy at all.

If only, I can make to the age of 19, one year and five months away, then maybe mom will get over some of her insanity.

I hear shouting, and then the sound of the gun, firing at least three times, then a body hits the ground. Mom's been building some tolerance to the sedative, which is not good, as it means we have to shoot her more, which dad says is a tough thing to do, even though he knows he has to.

I don't go downstairs, as I know what happened.

* * *

 **Samuel 'Sam' Halifax, 17**

 **District 9 Male**

* * *

Cutting grain is boring. Oops, that's my five billionth time I've thought that statement.

But seriously, it's just slice, bundle, throw in the wheelbarrow, a gigantic one that, when full, takes all the effort Bennie and I can muster to push back to the factory for the rest of the processing. If only they had machines to cut the grain.

At least, working as pairs, in the middle of a field, the two of us can talk without danger of being overheard, the watchers can't oversee all the fields everywhere at the same time. It's not like we're trying to hide anything either, nothing illegal passes our lips, or anything. But if we want to tell stuff privately, we do so here.

Today, though, is just work. We've had to work for an extra hour for the past week, to make up for the productivity we'll lose on Reaping Day. As if 10 hour days were bad enough.

The sound of the bell alerts us that noon is coming. At this point, we should have a full wheelbarrow from three hours of work, and if we don't have it at least 'mostly full', which is so opinionated from peacekeeper to peacekeeper it's laughable, we'll be punished somehow, either we'll lose pay, or we'll be whipped, or something else. I myself have several whip scars from opinionated peacekeepers. I don't think I've ever not fulfilled the required amount. I think I'd rather be someone who maintains the machines, but that's not our District's work. That's some other district which sends the machines over.

A peacekeeper inspects our wheelbarrow, and, fortunately, decides that it's enough, and waves us through into the unloading station. We dump the grain onto the conveyor belt, and then head off to lunch.

In order to make lunch 'as orderly as possible,' which is, I think, really a fancy way to make lunch as short as possible and labor as long as possible, we only eat in groups of four, no talking. All peacekeepers should be able to see are mouths and hands moving, and they should only hear food being eaten. Again, no talking.

Oh, and we only have 12:30 to finish lunch, or, you guessed it, we'll get punished.

It's the same food every day. A slice of bread, which I swear is made from our grain, and an apple, probably from 11. The lunch is small, and not satisfying at all. Oops, that's the five billionth time I've thought _that_ statement.

* * *

 **Tarragon 'Tarra' Amira Daen, 17**

 **District 9 Female**

* * *

The worst injuries happen when mom's on concrete when she gets hit by the tranquilizer.

Scraped limbs or cuts are common, bruising too. Once, mom had to get treated for a broken bone.

We have a bed we now call the 'recovery bed,' where we put mom to heal from her injuries. The sheets need to be washed often because they get stained with blood. Too often, we're short on bandages.

Without a mom to make lunch, now, I go in the kitchen and just throw some noodles in some hot water, get some sauce out, and have some spaghetti. No meatballs. Whatever.

I'm putting my plate away when I hear knocking on the door. I go over and see who it is, before slapping my head in frustration, then, tumble back, hitting my head too hard.

After I get over the disorientation, I open the door to one bemused Abbey. "Uh . . . hi?" was my amazing recovery speech.

Abbey bursts out laughing. "I wish I could live that moment on repeat!"

I scowl. "We had issues."

"What's the matter? You mom hit the floor _again_?"

"I don't appreciate the _sass,_ Ms. Abbey Beth Lawsho. My mom is going to be fine, as always."

Abbey starts to say something, stops, and then comments, "Your mom needs mummy-wrap."

"She's not dead, idiot!" I nearly yell, and then go at Abbey.

We tussle for a bit before someone separates us both. Breathing hard, I see dad looking sternly at me, and I shrink back slightly.

"We don't need two people on the recovery bed."

"Dad, we were just having our 'friendly fights,'" and Abbey nods in agreement.

"Don't have your 'friendly fights' when your mom is on the bed. As a matter of fact, I'd rather not hear any _sass_ from either of you."

Once dad leaves, Abbey says, "He _did_ say that _he_ would rather not hear any sass from _us_ , but he didn't say anything about _others_."

Understanding immediately, we both head out to do what we do.

* * *

 **Samuel 'Sam' Halifax, 17**

 **District 9 Male**

* * *

Did I mention yet that cutting grain is boring?

I did already, didn't I. If someone, presumably from another district, could read my thoughts, they'd think that I was insane. Everyone in 9 loves cutting grain, right? That's all we do, right?

We're human beings, not automatons. We get tired. Seeing grain-fields for hours on end is truly boring. Even for quiet people like me, who can observe for ages, who don't talk much, we get bored and talk. Speaking of which . . .

"Bennie?"

"Yeah?" He grunts.

"Do you think this is a boring job?"

"Sure, but cutting isn't so hard. The hard part is getting the wheelbarrow back. All things considered, this is a rather good paying job, if you only have to support yourself."

"Supporting a father and a brother, I guess is a bit easier than supporting two parents who can't work. My 10 year old brother probably doesn't have as big of a stomach as an adult."

"At least, I'll be a full-pledged adult in a few months, then I'll be able to get a higher pay."

"And longer work-hours," I remind Bennie. He just groans.

"After 11 hours of cutting grain, you won't notice an extra hour, right?"

"Except it's technically two hours, 11 is just temporary, because the Reaping -"

"End of discussion," Bennie says, abruptly.

How could I have been such an idiot. Don't talk about the Games or the Reaping near him, at least, not directly.

Bennie had an older brother who got sent to the games. Died on the third day, hypothermia. I remember being with him when the news broke. We already knew he wasn't well off by the second day. Bennie's pledged never to get tessare since, choosing other options, like working on Sunday to get more money.

"Sorry," I apologize, "I forgot."

Bennie smiles sadly at me, before resuming work. "Gotta fill up the 'barrow, next dump, I'd guess, is in a half-hour."

I don't question his sense of time. It's right almost all the time.

"How much more left?" I ask. The wheelbarrow is technically where I can see it, but I don't bother anyway.

"Some of the peacekeepers who have lower standards might let this slide. Let's not risk it, though."

* * *

 **Tarragon 'Tarra' Amira Daen, 17**

 **District 9 Female**

* * *

"Where you girls going?" a peacekeeper asks us.

"Places," I say in a way that's sure to cause suspicion.

"Where are you parents?"

"Somewhere," Abbey chimes in.

"If they didn't send you on an errand, you should go home. And you especially should not be near the factories."

"Oh, they're _with_ us, certainly."

The peacekeeper glances around, and then turns back to us. "I don't see them."

Abbey takes a photo out of her pocket. We've rehearsed this for a while, but never got a chance to try it. I take a similar photo out, containing my father.

"See? They're with us."

"Since they aren't physically with you, I will have to order you two to go home."

Expecting a response of this sort, I retort, "They _are_ physically with us. The photo is a physical object."

"Photos aren't dads," the peacekeeper, clearly trying to maintain composure, points out. It will only take a little more to break him.

"But you didn't ask for a parent, or a dad. You only asked for a physical object."

"Now, I _order_ you to get your parents and come back. Your disrespect for authority is _absolutely horrible_."

"We aren't being disrespectful," Abbey says, grinning, "we're just trying to understand what you're saying."

"Go home before I have you arrested!" he finally shouts. He's irritated, and I love it.

"But we are at home," Abbey says, "District 9 is our home!"

All of a sudden, I feel an abrupt pain in my stomach, and no longer in control, I collapse on my back. I hear Abbey scream, and manage to turn my head. There's a loud noise, a gunshot, and Abbey also collapses, and then the scream intensifies. Looking down, I see a hole in my stomach. A gunshot wound.

Something jerks my feet. It's very painful. The person dragging me says something about insolence. I feel myself being dragged off, and I can't see Abbey anymore. I can't see much _anything_ anymore, I can't control myself, voluntary motion becomes hard, and then, I get dragged over a bump in the road, and I lose consciousness.

* * *

 **Samuel 'Sam' Halifax, 17**

 **District 9 Male**

* * *

We're dumping our second load of the day, when we hear a gunshot, and a scream. Immediately, we see a few peacekeepers respond and run out of the building. A second shot is fired, and the scream gets louder. We're apparently far away, though, as the scream is still below talking level.

There's silence for a bit, and then a bit of murmuring, before all us workers are dispatched to collect our third and final round of grain.

I shake off the shots fired. It doesn't have anything to do with me.

With only an empty wheelbarrow to cart back, it barely takes any effort compared to the push to the factory.

Slice. Bundle. Dump. Slice. Bundle. Dump.

Cutting grain is boring.

After a forever of cutting, we hear the bell and start heading back. After being approved, we leave the factory for the night. As I leave, I notice two distinct blood trails on the ground. Apparently, two people were shot, and then, most likely, got dragged somewhere, either the jail, or the local doctor. But I don't know what the doctor can do against bullet wounds.

* * *

 **Tarragon 'Tarra' Amira Daen, 17**

 **District 9 Female**

* * *

I'm walking on a dark path. Why am I walking forward? I can't stop my legs.

I see a few trees here and there, and ache to climb them, but my legs won't let me. I can't control the lower half of my body.

I yank my legs, but my arms are overpowered. I keep going forward.

I resign to whatever is in front of me. After a few more minutes, a branch appears. To the left, there's a symbol of a walking person. Scratch that, not a walking _person_ , it's a walking _me_. To the right, is a picture of a skull.

"Choose," I hear, somewhere behind me. My legs won't turn, but I look backwards awkwardly, and I see a hooded person, presumably a man, from his voice.

"You have been shot, and are on the brink of death."

Have I been shot? I try to recall what happened, but I can't remember anything. Family? Nothing. Friends? Nothing. _My name?_ Nothing.

"You can't remember anything because you must make this decision outside of influences. How much do you want to live?"

Two sides rage in my mind, saying stuff that doesn't even make sense to me.

 _You wouldn't have to see the poverty of 9, and you would escape from the Games._

But what 9? What Games?

 _You want to see your family, friends, even if it risks stuff._

But who's my family? Who's my friends? What does choosing life risk?

"You must choose quickly, the door to life is closing."

Panic shoots through me, because I can't decide. I feel life edging a bit, and before I can regret anything, I reach out my left hand, and touch me. Well, not me, a picture of me.

"So you pick, so you shall go," the hooded man says.

My legs start walking, no, running, to the left path.

The path has light, but it is dimming rapidly. This must have been what the man was talking about, the life door closing.

I reach the door, near fully closed, and my legs squeeze through the door, and exit.

And all of a sudden, my body dissolves, and I go blank.

* * *

 **Samuel 'Sam' Halifax, 17**

 **District 9 Male**

* * *

I wake up at 7, as usual. June 20, says the calendar. I see the 21st labeled next to it, and quickly avert my eyes. I already know what will be written under there. The Reaping is tomorrow.

Then I realize, with all the excitement yesterday, I forgot to meet with my only friend, other than Bennie.

Actually, she's my girlfriend. We've started going out a few months ago, after realizing mutual affection for one another. And why shouldn't I? We've known each other since the first day of school, not the first day of the school year, but the literal first day of _school_.

I'll have to visit her before I go to work, and apologize.

I change, eat a quick breakfast, and head out. Dad will probably already be at work, and Dakota must be still sleeping.

I make the familiar 20-30 minute walk to Eva's house, and knock.

I smile when I see Eva, and we hug.

"Sorry I missed yesterday, I forgot with all the excitement."

"I suppose, there's rarely any excitement to begin with. I'm just glad you're here."

We let go, and go in Eva's house and sit on a couch next to each other.

"You know the rumor I heard?" Eva asks me.

"About?"

"The shots yesterday. Practically everyone heard them, or has heard it from someone who has."

"I was in the factory dumping grain when it happened."

"Rumor is that the two people who got shot were annoying a peacekeeper and being a smart-aleck or something. Just stupid!"

"Wait, they essentially were inviting a peacekeeper to shoot them?"

"Apparently. Then again, it's all rumors."

"But if it's true, that's just crazy."

" _You_ aren't that stupid, are you?" Eva asks.

I look at Eva dubiously. "I don't think I am. Even if I don't like the peacekeepers sometimes, we do have to follow them. But some of them can be _so objective_ , I say. I look down, and realize that I've been squeezing my hands into fists unconsciously. I try to calm down, but I feel myself starting to lose my temper.

"Sam? You're angry, are you?" Eva says, not really in a question, but in a statement, as it was obvious.

"I can tell, I've known you forever," Eva smiles, massaging my shoulders, which has the calming effect I couldn't produce myself.

After some more talking, I happen to see the time, 8:22 AM.

Phew! I need 30 minutes to get to the factory from Eva's. I excuse myself, hug Eva one more time, and then head to the factory, where I'll be dispatched to the fields.

* * *

 **Tarragon 'Tarra' Amira Daen, 17**

 **District 9 Female**

* * *

I'm aware of a dull pain in my stomach, and roll over to try to appease the pain. Maybe I had a stomach cramp overnight. I groan slightly.

Then I feel someone shaking my shoulders. It's firm, and I lay back on my back.

"Tarra! Tarra! Are you awake?"

Tarra?

And then, I remember everything. Why I'm here, why my stomach hurts, who the person is above me, and my name, Tarragon Amira Daen.

"Hi, dad," I try to say, but my voice is hoarse.

Dad, after recovering from his shock, leans down and pecks me on the cheek. "The doctors had to perform a very risky operation on you. If it succeeded, you should fully recover in a week, but if they failed . . ."

I don't know why dad isn't coming hard on me for intentionally annoying a peacekeeper. Maybe he's just going to wait until I'm stronger to do so. For now, it's all sympathy.

"They say you should be good enough to walk by evening, if you don't do anything now. Here's some water."

"Thanks," I try to get out.

Except it's really hard to drink a glass of water laying down, and I end up getting most of the water on my shirt instead of in my mouth.

Dad chuckles, and gets a new glass for me, and tips the water in my mouth.

I think of the strange dream I had, did I really get to choose whether to live or not? Maybe it was just a dream, but I remember the strange man saying, 'How much do you want to live?'

And I decide, on a hospital bed, that I will do anything possible to live, a decision made, and strengthened by friends and family.

"You know, you aren't going to escape a lecture."

Dang it.

"But not now."

I realize that Abbey also got shot, and ask, "Abbey?"

Dad's face contorts, and I fear the worst. "No . . . she's not . . . dead?"

"Tarra . . ." dad starts, but by now, I know that if Abbey was alive, dad would have told me.

I make a second decision. Not to disrespect authority. Ever. Again. Because Abbey would be alive otherwise.

Broken, I take a nap, sniffling slightly.

* * *

 **Samuel 'Sam' Halifax, 17**

 **District 9 Male**

* * *

"Bennie?"

"Hm?"

"Have you ever wondered what we'd do without the Capitol? Just 12 districts?"

"Well," Bennie chuckles slightly, "that would mean revolt. But I assume you just mean if the Capitol were to just disappear."

I nod, and Bennie continues. "My dad isn't a history teacher for nothing. I got to read a rare textbook from before the days of Panem."

"They exist?"

"Yep. I didn't understand it all, but apparently the country before Panem was called 'The US.'"

"The _US_? That's an odd name for a country."

"We couldn't find any more information about the name, as a lot of the text has faded. The best we can guess is that 'US' stood for something. There's also an inconsistency in one place in the textbook, where it says 'USA' instead of 'US'. Even dad's not sure why the textbook got an extra letter, he assumes it's a misprint. Anyway, the 'US' had a form of government where everyone voted who would rule the country, and he would do so for four or eight years, depending on whether the ruler was popular or not."

"Only four years? That's insanely short!"

Bennie nods, but then says, "On the other hand, that means unpopular people get kicked out after four years. And, there seemed to be one ruler who got caught up in a scandal and was forcibly overthrown, at least, that's the best dad can understand."

"If only it was that easy," I comment.

"The 'US' also apparently had two more districts, fifteen 'district' type places. But then, there's this odd contradiction . . ."

"Bennie, this is cool and all, but you still haven't answered my question."

"Oh, if the Capitol were to disappear, the voting system sounds like a great idea."

I consider this for a bit. Snow and the peacekeepers are clearly tyrannical, and the idea of the people choosing who rules sounds like a good idea. Alas, the idea is impossible.

I focus back on cutting grain, not that I wasn't doing it all that time, but I just focus on the grain. Boring, boring boring.

* * *

 **Tarragon 'Tarra' Amira Daen, 17**

 **District 9 Female**

* * *

Dad and I agree that, even though mom's worried sick, she shouldn't see me, given her mental state.

So, it's just dad, at 6:00 PM, precisely, with the doctor's supervision, helping me get out out of bed, and take my first steps.

Fortunately, the pain, which has mostly subsided, only flares slightly.

Dad lets go of his support, and I find myself experimentally walking, before gaining some confidence, and I take normal steps. The pain does not increase.

The doctor heaves a sigh of relief. "Just don't stress yourself too much, and you'll be good to go in a week. You may go home today."

If only Abbey could see me now.

With dad next to me, I walk home holding dad's arm just in case. I plop on the bed, and dream away.

* * *

 **Samuel 'Sam' Halifax, 17**

 **District 9 Male**

* * *

On the bright side, at least, there's no work today.

But, of course, the only reason why there wouldn't be is because the Reaping is today, instead.

I don't care too much what I wear to the Reaping, so I just put on a grain-colored shirt, and overalls.

This time, both dad and Dakota are up before me. Must be because I took advantage that I didn't have to be somewhere at 9:00. It's nearly a full hour later than 9. Reaping is at 12:30.

"Hi dad, hi Dakota," I say in the dining room.

"Are you going to wear that to the Reaping?" Dad asks.

"I don't care too much." I mutter.

Dad sighs, but says nothing. I think of the amount of time my name is in the bowl. Every year, I've taken out three tessare, so for each reaping year, my name's been put in four times. So, I must be in 24 times.

Not as bad as some people. Eva's told me that she's in 30 times, five times per year.

Still, the prospect of going to the Games is scary, and it's a legitimate possibility.

I'm not sure how many times Bennie's in, but he stopped taking tessare after 14, before then taking one out for him, his brother, and his parents, so he should be in 18 times. He has the odds tilted for him a bit.

Dad switches on Capitol TV for some of the Reapings, but I'm disinterested. I hear that it seems to be District 5, but whatever.

We'll need to leave at 11:30 and skip lunch for the Reapings.

If only they provided food at the Square.

* * *

 **Tarragon 'Tarra' Amira Daen, 17**

 **District 9 Female**

* * *

Morning arrives, and I feel a lot better. The pain in my abdomen is nearly gone. I pace in my room, and then try jumping, and the pain flares, so I tell myself not to

I look at the clock, and see that it's almost 12.

Wait, what?

I hurriedly put on a brown dress that looks presentable, and pace-walk downstairs. I don't dare try running, as running is, I suppose, a form of jumping. Just effective jumping.

Thankfully, the Square might as well be next door, only a few minutes of walking. A minute or less of running, but I'm not doing that any time soon.

I see mom, and when she sees me, she runs to me and hugs me, thankfully, around the chest, not my stomach.

"You're alive . . ." my mom says, seemingly in a trance-like state.

I smile, and head into the kitchen to make something for myself, but I notice some food already laid out for me. Grateful, I chow down. Halfway through, dad comes up, and I smile through a mouthful of sandwich.

"Tarra," dad says in that voice which I haven't heard since I sassed my teacher in the middle of the school year.

I sigh.

"You should feel lucky that mom's a victor. Without the money, we wouldn't have been able to afford the operation, and you probably would be dead too."

The word 'dead' rings through my head, but it's repulsive, as if I've actually grown a distaste for death. I did say I'll do anything to survive, though.

"But," dad says, "we're glad that you're not dead," dad says, hugging me. "Let's go to the square, and be a bit early.

* * *

 **Samuel 'Sam' Halifax, 17**

 **District 9 Male**

* * *

Everything's the same, I tell myself. It's just everyone's one row back. Instead of Eva, Bennie, and I being in the 16 year old section, we're now in the 17 year old section.

And here comes our district escort, Meus.

She gives the standard welcome, speech, video. Even with the video, though, I think of making the Capitol go poof. Meus introduces the victors, and then Meus walks to the girl's ball.

 _Please, please, not Eva. Anyone but . . ._

Meus spins the ball, then opens the lid, and selects one name.

And it's not Eva, thankfully, but one Tarragon Daen.

Then, everything breaks loose on the stage.

* * *

 **Tarragon 'Tarra' Amira Daen, 17**

 **District 9 Female**

* * *

Something tries to get out of my throat, but I force it down.

How can I be this unlucky, to be shot, lose a friend, and on top of all that, I'm going to the Games? But I see the peacekeepers coming, and I see _the_ peacekeeper who shot me, grinning, and pushing through the crowd. I don't want to come into contact with him. I force my legs to move, and I walk stiffly up the stage. It seems that the pain in my abdomen has increased hundredfold. I try not to hunch over from the pain, but it's hard not to.

Mom, being one of the victors and gets to sit on the stage, seems in utter shock. Then, in an unexpected move, she leaps up and attacks our escort. The escort yelps as mom catches her in a headlock. Mom raises her fist, before it, and her body, flop onto the stage, a dart sticking out of her back.

While everyone watches my mom, I wipe the tears away, and finish climbing the steps, doing my best to ignore my mom's limp body sprawled out on the stage.

But, I remember that I would cling to life as long as I can. How much do I want to live? How much do I want to return to my family?

I must, at the very least, try to return.

* * *

 **Samuel 'Sam' Halifax, 17**

 **District 9 Male**

* * *

The girl seems to be injured somewhat, maybe in the stomach, by the way she walks, though it's clear that she's trying to hide it for the cameras.

Once she climbs the stage and the escort calms down enough, she grabs the first slip her hand touches, and quickly reads the name.

I recognize the name called. In face, it's mine.

All of a sudden, all I see are people's heads and the sky. I realize that I must have fallen over on my back.

I get up, but I'm in shock, and almost fall again. I steady myself, and then, walk up the stairs to my doom.

I want the Capitol to disappear now.

* * *

 **Johnathan Wilford**

 **Head Gamemaker**

* * *

Samuel and Tarragon shake hands shakily, before being escorted into the Building.

The girl, Tarragon, seems to be injured somewhat, by the way she had her hand on her left side, and a slight hunch. If it's permanent, in the sense of a couple weeks or so, she'll be at a great disadvantage. I'll make sure she gets a doctor's examination. Even if it's the Hunger Games, we do want to give all players a fighting chance.

And Samuel, I don't know. He fell over, which might show a weakness, but he did seem to shake it off. Other than that, I don't see anything immediate that would distinguish him from previous District 9 tributes.

I put down my notes on the tributes. I can probably by now start assigning odds to the lower districts, but I'm interested in seeing the last three districts.

I massage my eyes, as they've been staring at the TV for too long. I stretch, and then zone into District 10.

* * *

 **Tarragon 'Tarra' Amira Daen, 17**

 **District 9 Female**

* * *

Dad comes in, and he seems on the verge of tears. I want to cry too, but I try not to. I don't want to show weakness. Mom is, of course, not here, as she's sedated.

"I'm so, so, so sorry for you, Tarra. You need to remain strong." Dad chokes out.

I know if I say anything, I will start crying.

"Tarra, you're injured, and you have to recover if you're going to have a chance," dad says, recovering slightly. "so you could act injured, which you _are_ , and when you're fully healed, go out and surprise the field."

I understand, somehow, what he wants me to do. Play the weakling. Except I will be the most convincing weakling ever. The only question my befuddled mind can come up with, however, is, whether I can come out of being a weakling.

Dad is forced to go. Then, two more friends come in, my closest remaining friends. Another pang fills my heart, which threatens to break me, but I wipe my eyes and look at my friends. I haven't seen either since I was shot. Fennel Bay is two years older than me, and we think, or thought, since I'm going to the Games, that we have a think for each other, and we were considering whether to go forward. He's really caring, for me, and for his two sisters. But I feel that today, right now, all he has for me is dread.

The other friend I have is Bay Brown. She's a great friend, but she's scared of a lot of things. This becomes almost ironic when you learn she enjoys the games. I don't know what she's thinking now that one of her friends is going to the games. She doesn't seem to be very emotional, but I'm not terribly surprised.

I decide to just hug Fennel passionately, as this is, sadly, most like the last time I'll see him.

But I can't afford to think like this, not if I don't want to die. I must believe that I'll see him again. I let some tears out, and we stay like this for a bit, before separating.

After that, Bay tells me, "I know you might not like what I say, but I am excited to see you in the Games. I do want you to come back, as I don't want to see you die either."

Bay starts talking about other stuff, but I don't want to hear it, because it's from someone who is excited to see me in the games, even if she's a friend.

When they're called out, I hug Fennel one more time, before they're taken, and I'm left to face the Games, injured for now, and with a mentally unstable mom.

* * *

 **Samuel 'Sam' Halifax, 17**

 **District 9 Male**

* * *

"Take this," dad says, tears falling from his eyes.

I can't blame him, I want to cry myself, but everyone knows what tears mean. And that's something I can't afford.

With trembling fingers, I open the pocket-watch type device. A picture of me and Dakota together one one side, and dad on the other. A token.

Before I know it, a few tears drip from my eyes, which I quickly wipe. At least, now, I'll remember of home.

I slip it into my pocket. Dakota and dad are taken away, and I see why a lot of tributes carry their goodbyes into their interviews. The time to say goodbye is too short.

I know who has to be next. Eva and Bennie. Bennie's clearly very sad, and is crying silently, maybe because now he's losing a second person he knows, or knew, to the Games. Eva, on the other hand, is not making any attempt to hide it.

"Eva . . ." I trail, before hugging her, and she hugs back, like she's on a cliff and I'm the only thing preventing her from falling off the edge.

Her tears fall on my shoulder, and I have to struggle not to do the same. But we can't stay like this forever, and I pry her fingers off me. Eva's a bit better, having let go of some of her emotion, and I know that's all she'll have time for, as my time must be rapidly closing.

"Bennie?" I ask. He just lifts his head in response. "I'll miss you a lot. Find someone to help you with the wheelbarrow," I say, trying to smile.

He smiles sadly back. "You can try," he says, "what we said yesterday."

"What?"

"You can try to make the Capitol disappear, or at least, weaken. Even if you die, something great could happen."

The idea seems good, maybe, but it would be really hard to do that. I don't know, and I'd certainly be punished. But when I'm going to die anyway, what harm would it do?

"Maybe, Bennie, maybe."

Then Eva and Bennie go, and I know that the Games, my Games, the Capitol's Games, start now.

* * *

 **If you're questioning the near-death scene with Tarragon, there were a few reasons for that. First, I thought that I needed to practice writing a death scene, but obviously, I can't kill the tributes now. I wanted comment on how I did with it. Second, I thought that it would achieve some character development which would otherwise be lost from the shooting, which is why I didn't just have Tarragon wake up. Thirdly, I found Samuel's POV to be really boring in the beginning, as is clearly stated, so I thought the near-death scene would be good for that. Thanks, guys! :)**

 _ **How will Tarragon's experience with Death affect her in the games? How did I write the scene overall? How will she deal with a 'mentally unstable' mom as mentor? Will Samuel try to do something to 'make the Capitol disappear' or something of the like? If so, what might he do?**_


	11. District 10 Reapings: Elizabella & Juno

**Here's District 10! Maveriqua sent the male and AKLNxStories (again) sent the female! As usual, thanks to both of them! :)**

* * *

 **Elizabella Lovelock, 16**

 **District 10 Female**

* * *

I wake up, feeling unusually tired and sleepy. I try to get up, but it's like moving underwater. I cough a few times before I realize what happened. The epidemic has reached me.

I curse in my head, before lying down and hoarsely calling my mom.

The swine flu. In other words, District 10's mortal enemy. If our main industry wasn't livestock I'm sure it wouldn't be. As it is, the animals provide a harbor for disease, and sometimes, some pathogen rips through the population like wildfire. This outbreak only started a few days ago, and I've heard it's already reached over half the population. Add one more to that count.

It's so common, now, though, that these outbreaks only last for a week at most, before most people recover, and life goes on, unless you keel over from the sickness, combined with malnutrition, cold, who knows what?

Mom comes in, and quickly realizes what happened. In no time at all, she has the 'bed tray' as we call it, next to me, with a large, like, _really large,_ glass of water, and a pill.

I take the pill, which I've been used to taking by now, and continue resting in bed. I finish the water, and then decide to just talk to a friend. Fortunately, there's a phone at my bedside, in case I'm stuck in bed, like now, and am bored.

The only person I'd really call up, though, is Clementine. She's the same age as me, and I know she's also sick, she caught it yesterday. She's probably bored out of her mind.

I grab the phone, and dial 10-3118. Apparently, you can technically call people from other districts, as the first 10 stands for District 10, but only people who have special privileges, like the Mayor or Victors, can actually utilize this function. All others who try will receive the message, 'We're sorry, but the phone number you're trying to reach is outside the allowable calling area.'

After a few rings, the phone picks up.

"Hello?" I hear Clementine ask in a slightly raspy voice.

"Clem, you have to drink water when you're sick," I say, needing another huge glass of water myself.

"Oh, Elizabella. You sound sick too . . .?"

"Yeah, in bed," I reply, "and I think I should take my own advice. Hold on . . ."

I call for my mom, and she only needs to hear me before I receive a second glass, which I drink thirstily.

"Ah . . . alright, Clem?"

"Stop calling me Clem, Eliza," she replies cheekily.

"You know, I would argue for Clem but not Eliza, but I'm sick and if I talk too much, I'll . . . I'll . . ."

I sneeze a few times, grab a tissue, blow in it, and then toss the tissue into the wastebasket. They say that if you don't get sick more than five times per year, you're a really healthy person. That's probably true, this is my 4th time, and it's only about half a year. I'm in bed sick so much that tissue-tossing is trivial now, which isn't as easy as it seems. The tissue can be unevenly weighted, have different overall weights, be gross to hold in the most otherwise convenient manner, etcetera.

* * *

 **Juno Taurus, 17**

 **District 10 Male**

* * *

I can't believe people actually believe that District 10 folks hold straw in their mouths. I . . . I just don't get it.

Making a point to stay away from people as much as possible, not that I'm antisocial, but I don't want to get sick myself, I head out to the barn. Everyone in my family is not sick, at least, that was the case 15 minutes ago when I left the house. And yes, stuff can change in 15 minutes.

Summer time is the time to grow livestock, we don't slaughter them now, unless there's an urgent need to, like disease. And then their meat we throw out.

We may not slaughter to solve our own hunger problems, though, that's against the law. Not that it affects us too badly. There are dry spells, but we've always gotten through.

I walk into the barn, and start doing the daily chores. Most of the animals have sufficient water, except the cows. I'm reminded of the riddle that tends to get the youngest of us, but past 10 years and you're hard-pressed to get anyone to fall for it. 'What color are clouds? What's the opposite of black?' And many other questions that lead to an answer of white, and then, out of the blue, 'What do cows drink?'

No, the answer is not milk. Please. Just no. Unless you want to kill your cows. Then give them milk. But we're in the business of keeping our livestock alive until the knife.

I refill the water, and then grab the shovel to take out the manure. It sounds like a gross job at first, and it sort of is, but you get used to it eventually.

As I start shoveling, I see someone coming out of the corner of my eye. I look, and see who I expected, Jasper Argus.

Jasper is a ranch hand, and he functions well as one, there's just a few things here and there, but nothing too bad. He's a person who learns fast from experience. I've never had to correct him on any one thing more than once, which is impressive, since there's so much to learn. When I learned from my dad, I made a lot of mistakes. Fortunately, that was over six years ago.

Jasper goes to check the food and the quality, and if either is lacking, he should replace them. I see him take out the pig's feed box, and get some new food.

"Anyone sick in your family," I ask Jasper.

"Min," Jasper says, "she'll get over it though. She's almost better. Caught it three days ago, and she's pretty much up and running. Keeping her home just in case, though."

"Good idea, but the epidemic should pass through in a few days. It's been three days, can't last longer than three more days."

"But the Reaping . . ."

 _Great_ , I think. An event we're coerced to go, epidemic or not.

* * *

 **Elizabella Lovelock, 16**

 **District 10 Female**

* * *

In my drawer is my 'arsenal' of stuff for when I'm sick. It contains pretty much anything I'll need, except for food and water, to survive without leaving my room.

Grabbing the handheld mirror and the comb, I start to comb my dark brown hair, before realizing it will just get messed up when I lie back down, so I put them back.

I grab a 3-D puzzle that's intrigued me for a while, a 3 by 3 by 3 cube that twists on the side. Apparently, the goal is to get all the same color on one side. As far as I know, no one in District 10 knows how to fix this.

However, it is a great time-waster. I twist it for a while, managing to make a side, but not able to continue further, until lunch.

The standard meals for a sick person, according to mom, at least, is a very nutritious meal, composing of more greens than normal. I don't like it, but I understand it's for the better.

I eat slightly half-heartedly, and then, out of sheer boredom, call Clementine again.

1\. 0. 3. 1. 1. 8.

"Hello?" a voice that's clearly not Clementine's or anyone from her family says.

I stare at the phone number I called, and realized I entered 8 twice instead of 1 twice. I hang up immediately, and flop down on my bed. I blame the error on my sickness.

After recovering from the momentary embarrassment, I call again, making sure to dial the right number this time.

"Clementine?" I ask before she can even say anything.

"Eliza?" I hear, making me scowl.

"Don't. Just don't. But I know what you're going to say."

"That I won't stop until you stop calling me Clem?"

I roll my eyes, but thankfully, Clementine can't see me. "Yeah. You feeling any better?"

"I think I'm almost good. Seems like I only got a mild case. Hope you also have a mild one as well. I'd hate for you to be sick during the Reaping."

"I'd hate for _anyone_ to be sick during the Reaping," I reply, "including me."

"Good thing is, a lot of the population has already recovered, so possibly herd immunity . . ." Clementine trails.

"Maybe, depends on just how contagious it is this time. I'm going to sleep. Good bye, Clem." I say, and hang up before she can respond.

Chuckling slightly, I slide back down and find slumberland.

* * *

 **Juno Taurus, 17**

 **District 10 Male**

* * *

Dark clouds on the horizon. That means it's going to rain soon.

Well, maybe, anyway. My meteorological skills are mediocre at best. And I don't even want to think about when I'm horribly wrong.

After lunch, I decide that, before going out again, I'll read a good book.

Even though Dad's really busy with the farm and whatnot, he makes time for my interests, one of which is reading. He's great, and finds books for me to read when he can.

I'm lucky, as a significant amount of the population can't read at all, most because as a child, they had to help at the farm and not go to school. Grandma was one of those people. She can't read, and I guess that's why she loves to see me read myself.

Even if I'm lucky, my literacy isn't great

I look at the shelf, and find a book, apparently new, titled, _100 Years of Hunger Games_. The history of the Hunger Games, detailing all victors, kill lists, placements, etcetera. It's a little gory, but I can handle it.

Dutifully putting the book down after reading the details of the first two Hunger Games, I get up, stretch, and grab a bookmark. I place the book back on the shelf, and head out again.

I'll need to take the sheep out to new grass today. Dad should have already taken the cows.

I get to the barn, and, habitually, count 43 sheep. Perfect. Now I just need Jasper.

"Looking for someone?" I hear, startling me.

"Jasper! I was just looking for you. We gotta take out the sheep to pasture."

Grinning, Jasper starts his work, and then I open the gate, and start herding the sheep to Field 2.

I don't catch any sheep wandering off, I guess they're half-used to this drill by now. Not that I'd trust the sheep to get to the Field by themselves.

Once the sheep are there, Jasper leaves to do other work, while I sit on the grass, watching the sheep.

As long as I don't fall asleep, I should be fine.

* * *

 **Elizabella Lovelock, 16**

 **District 10 Female**

* * *

I wake up again as mom's bringing the bed tray filled with dinner, no doubt another nutritious meal.

However, I frown when I see something new. They're yellow stick thingys about as long as my fingers, but they smell good. I try one, and realize it's just potatoes, but somehow delicious.

Remember when I said this was going to be a nutritious meal? I think I lied.

"What are these called?" I say, stuffing all of the yellow stuff into my mouth.

"One, don't talk with your mouth full, Eliza."

I'm in for it. Mom never calls me Eliza unless . . .

"I'd hate to get covered in french fries."

"French?" I ask, swallowing, "what's french?"

"I don't know, but that's what it's called. French fries."

Huh. That's very interesting. I observe the rest of my tray, and see some carrot sticks, and a small slice of beef. Mom grabs the chair in my room and sits down while I finish off the rest of the tray.

"Ione, hon, did you take the tray up?" we hear from downstairs. Must be dad.

"Yes, I did, Elizabella just finished. I'll take the tray _down_ now."

I half-chuckle, half-snort as I give mom the tray, before quickly retreating and sneezing. I hope I'm better tomorrow, after a good night of rest. Not that I'm expecting to be fully recovered, but, at least, I want to be fully recovered by the Reaping, if only to not spread disease. And the best way to help my body deal with the sickness is definitely to get some rest.

 _Right now_ , I think, as I lay back for more rest.

* * *

 **Juno Taurus, 17**

 **District 10 Male**

* * *

Another thing that kids quickly learn here is that the old kid tale that the rooster crow announces the start of day. That's not true.

Well, I suppose, it's partially true. However, it crows at pretty much any time of day, including night. That gets annoying if you get woken up by one during the night, so we don't use them to signal dawn. We just get up. The roosters should be in the barn waking up and annoying the animals instead.

I walk to the living room, and see that I got up a bit earlier than usual, at roughly 6:30 instead of at around 7. Great, I have 30 more minutes!

I put a bit of food together and eat, just wanting to get out, which might sound a bit odd, but I do enjoy my work. Most of the time.

I put my dish in the sink, then, deciding to help out my mom a bit, I rinse the dish off, before leaving for the normal stuff.

I look out at the land we have. We have five fields, each roughly 10 acres. It's good for the animals, and good for me, because then I get exercise just doing my work. But I guess that's true about all manual labor.

Arriving at the barn, I start the daily chores, checking the water. The cows and pigs both need new water, the latter because it just seems contaminated.

There isn't much dung today, which I'm glad for, unsurprisingly, it's my least favorite part of this work.

I have just finished my chores when Jasper comes. He looks around, seemingly surprised. "You got a lot done."

"No, I just came here early. I'm not _that_ efficient." Then, remembering that Jasper's little sister is sick, I ask, "How's Min?"

"All better," Jasper says, starting to do his own chores, "she's good to go for whatever. Emotionally, though, tomorrow is her first Reaping."

I remember the first time I was eligible. I was scared out of my mind, even though, realistically, 12 year olds are least at risk, unless you've taken out tessare, like I have every year, four tessare per year, one for me, mom, dad, and grandma.

I sigh. "She's not taking tessare, right?"

"That's my job," Jasper says quietly.

Math isn't my strong suit, but I know that my name has gone in five times per year, and this is my 6th year eligible, so I should be in 30 times I think? That sounds about right.

The odds aren't in my favor, sure, but I slipped through with 25 times in. What's five more?

* * *

 **Elizabella Lovelock, 16**

 **District 10 Female**

* * *

I wake up, late probably, but I feel much better. I know, however, that this is probably an illusion, and if I get out like a normal day, I'll probably get worse again. You just know that after doing that three million times before.

I stretch, however, and feel my forehead. A bit hot, perhaps. One more day in bed should do it.

I sigh, and call mom from my room, but my voice catches. I need water, I guess. Mom comes to the rescue quickly, though, and I gulp down the glass of water. I also look at the tray, and I see an apple and a slice of bread. I frown slightly.

"Sorry," mom says, as if she can read my mind, "but we're running low."

I understand, though, so I try to smile, and eat slowly and deliberately, enjoying every single bite.

Sighing when all the food is gone, I give the tray back to mom, who goes downstairs. A bit after, I cough slightly, still the remnants of infection left.

I hear the doorbell ring downstairs, and I wonder who it is. I get the answer a few minutes later when Clementine comes into my room.

"Hey, Clementine," I say, desperately hoping she forgot about yesterday, and me hanging up on her, "feeling better?"

"Nope, I would feel better if you call me Clementine, Eliza."

Clementine has the advantage here. I can't exactly get out of bed and strangle her. Not that I would do that anyway.

"For today, at least." I say, intending to start calling her Clem when I can actually stand and not worry of a relapse.

Clementine rolls her eyes at me, but seems to relent. "Ok, Elizabella. But maybe tomorrow. I can be here, by the way, because I already got sick, so I don't need to worry about getting it again."

At least, I won't need to worry about it today. I notice that Clementine is holding something in her hand, but I can't see it clearly form my angle, and the way her hand covers the object isn't helping.

"What's in your hand?" I ask Clementine.

"Something we can do," Clementine says, holding out a deck of cards.

* * *

 **Juno Taurus, 17**

 **District 10 Male**

* * *

With the morning stuff all done, Jasper heads back to his house on the outskirts of the property, and I head back to mine.

Ready for lunch, I head inside, and am greeted with warm soup. That seems to be all, but I don't care too much. I thank mom, and then drink down, scooping up the rest with a spoon.

Refreshed and rejuvenated, I stretch, thank mom again, and then head out again, before realizing I have some time before I actually _do_ have to head out. I go back in and decide to read two more Hunger Games before I head out.

Remembering yesterday, reading the first Hunger Games was really interesting, without Careers, without traps, just 24 scared tributes with weapons.

The Games sure have changed since then. If only the results weren't so skewed. The introduction says that in the 100 years, nearly half of them were won by 1, 2, or 4.

After reading, I truly go out again for herding. Today, it's the horses.

Controlling horses is a bit tricky, mainly because of their potential to be fast, however, a well-known technique to control all the horses is to take control of the horse that seems to be the leader. Then, everyone will follow the leader, and the leader will follow us.

Even with that in mind, I'll need Jasper for help, and sure enough, only a few minutes after I get to the horses' stable, Jasper shows up too.

We nod, and then start. It's become a habitual process. I tell Jasper that we're going to Field 4, and then I get on the lead horse, and Jasper makes sure the others are in-line. That's usually not necessary, but who knows?

I watch the horses more attentively than the sheep, but no one seems to be going anywhere anytime soon. Well, no _horse,_ I suppose.

* * *

 **Elizabella Lovelock, 16**

 **District 10 Female**

* * *

I bite my fingertips nervously, watching my opponent with a sense of dread. She might be winning right now, and I would have no idea.

Then, Clementine plays a 9. "The pile is at 93 now. Anything good?" she asks me.

I could try playing my king and default to 98, but what if Clem has a stalling card, like a Jack or a Queen? Then, since I don't have one myself, I only have one 3, one 7, and one 9 as well as the king.

Deciding not to risk it, I play my three, increasing the pile to 96. Drawing, I get a Jack. A smile threatens to cross my face, but I force it down. I can't let Clementine know that.

"Ahh, whatever," Clementine says, and plays _her_ king. "98."

I smile, and play my Jack. "And 98 to you too, Clementine." Drawing again, I get an ace, but I'm not sure if I'll need it.

Clementine plays a Queen she's clearly been saving for this occasion. "And 98 to you, _again_."

Hoping that Clementine doesn't have any more stalls, I play my own king. "98 back to you."

Clementine's face contorts into one of surprise, and I realize that I must have gotten her. "What's wrong? Can't find anything to play?"

She scowls, before playing a two, losing the game for her. I drop my cards, revealing that if she had one more stall, she would have won. Clementine just whistles in response.

"Up for anything else?" Clementine asks.

"No, I think I just want to rest up. I have to be good tomorrow, lest I spread the disease."

Clementine nods, hugs me as well as she can while I'm on my bed, and then heads out.

I'm lucky to have this much attention while sick. Not everyone has friends who are willing to come over when you're sick, even if they're immune. I'm glad that I have Clementine, even if we have our war over nicknames. But the Reaping is always the one which unites the District, puts all internal battles away, and has everyone holding hands and watching the screen, hoping that one of our tributes will win. And, more often than not, actually, as long as I've lived it's been 'not,' they die somehow, whether it's to mutts, or other tributes, or environment.

Mom will wake me for dinner. I'll just sleep some more.

* * *

 **Juno Taurus, 17**

 **District 10 Male**

* * *

I'm always exhausted after watching horses.

You have to stay on the lead horse, or who knows what will happen, so you can't lay down on the grass, and you must be constantly alert.

It's so hard that Jasper and I need to switch off every hour or so, which sort of works, but we're both exhausted at the end of the day anyway.

I stumble into the house, and find scrambled eggs and a slice of the trademark 10 meat, which has been kept in storage since the culling season. It's really salty because of the preservatives. There's also some bread made from the tessare. Great.

However, I can't complain much, it is food after all, so I collapse into my chair and dig in. I know that I don't need to wait for anyone, because dad and I just come in and eat for our meals. Mom and grandma would eat together, though.

Sometimes, I wish that I could do something different. Sure, working the herds is fun, but that's what nearly _everyone_ does here. If there was only something different. Maybe a job from 3, or 6, maybe, would be pretty cool. Possibly 4, 5, or 8 as well. Woodworking sounds hard, but like livestock, I bet, would be something I would be used to if I lived in 7.

It's an impossibility, though. I'll near certainly end up as a ranch owner or worker. No other possible work for me. Probably the most out-of-district thing I do is reading, and only because my family believes that I should. Not to say I don't like reading, I really do, but I wouldn't have taken up reading in the first place if it wasn't for my family who pushed me to do so.

Sighing, I finish up my meal, put my plates and utensils away, and head up to get ready for bed. I grab a toothpick and get out any particles of food that might have decided to take shelter in my mouth, then gurgle and spit out, and finally, changing out of my ranch clothes, before going to sleep on the night before the Reaping.

* * *

 **Elizabella Lovelock, 16**

 **District 10 Female**

* * *

For the first time in the past two days, I wake up, mostly refreshed and ready. I get out of bed and stretch, being the first time I've gotten out bed for something other than the bathroom. I walk in circles for a bit, and I know I've recovered. Just in time too. The Reaping is at 2:00, and glancing at the clock in my room, it is 8:12, so the Reaping is in less than six hours.

I exit my room and go to the dining room, where mom's laid out more food than usual, because of the Reaping. Two slices of bread, which is rare, from the small bakery, coupled with some cheese and some meat made by the hands of our district, to make a happy sandwich. I grab a knife and carve a smiley face on my sandwich.

"There," I announce proudly, "it's a happy sandwich."

Mom and dad chuckle slightly. I rarely have sandwiches, I rarely have two slices of bread _or_ cheese. But, today is special. It's meant to calm my nerves. I eat gratefully.

I'm glad that dad doesn't have to head out for work today. Of course, that means it's either Sunday or Reaping Day, and today, it's the latter.

After eating and straightening my hair and whatnot, I realize that it's only 8:45, and the Reaping broadcast doesn't start until 9:30. I watch it because it gives a preview of the tributes, and it also makes me feel sorry for the young tributes, especially. It hurts to see them go on stage, and, paradoxically, that's why I like to watch the Reapings.

To use some time, I try on my Reaping dress. A yellow dress, that was slightly big for me last year, but it fits perfectly today. It falls to a few inches below my knees, and the top hugs me, but not overly so. Overall, I look good in this.

I twirl into the living room, where my parents clap at my dramatic appearance. "Fits you perfectly now, I assume," dad says.

I nod, then notice that the pre-Reaping stuff has already started. Duh. I _totally_ knew that.

We can watch up to District 8, before we have to head out to the Square ourselves. It's not too far away, but we'll need 20 minutes.

I sit down and watch with my parents.

* * *

 **Juno Taurus, 17**

 **District 10 Male**

* * *

Normally, I would watch with the rest of my family. But sometimes the heartbreak from the reaped, the arrogance of the volunteers is hard to watch. This year, I'll read some of the past games instead of watch.

I find a quiet corner of the house, which, of course, is my room, and am about to turn to the next Games, when something in the Table of Contents catches my eye.

 _The 74th Hunger Games_ , and under that, the subtitle of _The Love Games._ Even more intriguing, is the victor listed. Or rather, the victor _s_. On top of that, it was apparently the _pair_ from District 12 of all places that made it through. What?!

The Table of Contents lists the page at 745, but I could figure that out by myself. Five pages of introduction, and then, 10 pages per games.

 _The 74th Hunger Games is the only Hunger Games where two people were declared victors._ I read. _The arena was a half-field half-forest terrain._

"Juno, are you going to watch?"

I see grandma come into my room, and look at me, questionably.

I sigh. Just when was getting to something good. But grandma sees my expression, and she guesses exactly what I was thinking.

"You don't have to, on my account."

"No, no, I'll go watch," I say, trying to hide my half-heartedness.

I put a bookmark in my book, and shelve it. I will read it later, maybe sneak at it during the Reaping. I doubt that anyone would notice. The book has really fine paper, so the 1000 page book is about the size of a similar 300 page book. I'll be able to conceal it easily enough.

Watching the Reapings, aside from the Careers, only two tributes look odd. There's a strong-looking girl from 7, even the commentators, dumb as they are, pick up on this, who volunteers. If I didn't know better, I'd say that she trained for the Games. Her partner also looks muscular, but he was reaped, so I don't know.

Then, there's the girl from 8 who seems, I don't know, energized, maybe. She seems excited, if not nervous to be reaped. I think she has something wrong in the head, I've never seen someone _excited_ to be reaped.

But after District 8, there's only 30 minutes until our own Reaping starts, and 30 minutes after that, two tributes will have been selected to be shipped to the Capitol, where they'll be killed like livestock waiting to be slaughtered.

* * *

 **Elizabella Lovelock, 16**

 **District 10 Female**

* * *

I instinctively jerk my hand back when I feel the needle make contact with my skin. But it's already drawn a small dot of blood, which the machine registers. It displays my name, and the peacekeeper waves me through.

Reaching the 16 year old girls section, I scan for Clementine, so I can call her Clem before she calls me Eliza.

Having no luck, I delve into the crowd, looking carefully for curly blond hair, indicative of Clementine.

"Hey, Eliza!" a voice that could only be Clementine's says. I scowl and turn to my right, and see her, grinning, and waving at me. Half-reluctantly, I join her.

"First shots," Clem claims.

"Dibs, Clem. Second shots." I shoot back.

"If we're both holding guns, but I shoot first, you won't get to shoot back, Eliza."

"And if you miss, I'll get you, Clem."

But the chiming of the bell with two clear notes silences everyone. It is now 2:00, and the escort, Albinus, starts the Reapings for us.

* * *

 **Johnathan Wilford**

 **Head Gamemaker**

* * *

Oddly enough, I hear a lot of coughing as I listen to Albinus give the speech, the Treaty of Treason. Since I essentially know the speech by heart, I scan the crowd to find the serial cougher, only to realize that there's multiple coughers. Maybe 10 is going through another epidemic. If this is the beginning, tomorrow they'll see a whole bunch of sick people, but if this is the dwindling end, then most of them should be fine in a few days. At any rate, reaping a sick person is no big deal, just give them a shot of antibacterial or antiviral medicine, and they'll be good to go for the Games or for training or for _whatever._

Finally, Albinus reaches the part everyone cares about. He goes to the girls ball, and selects one slip of paper, and, especially in the outer districts, there's a large sense of unity during this time, as you can hear a collective breath as everyone waits for the name.

Albinus read out, "Elizabella Lovelock," followed by his own addition, "you have been chosen as the District 10 Female!"

I scan the crowd, and my years of watching the games allows me to pick out one girl who looks astonished, before she starts to sniffle, and tears streak down her face. She doesn't move and the peacekeepers have to come in. She doesn't resist them, but she needs their guidance, apparently. By the time she reaches the stage, though, she's managed to compose herself. Somewhat, anyway.

Albinus is all smiles, ignoring the sympathy towards Elizabella and the hatred toward himself, and goes right on to the boys. This time, he makes a bit of a show selecting a name, which forces some of the people who can't hold their breath for too long to exhale before the reading of the name.

When he's happy with the amount of exhales, he picks up the microphone, which causes everyone to inhale again. A frown crosses his face, but he continues on. "Juno Taurus, you have been chosen as the District 10 Male!"

Funny, if I wasn't keeping track of where we were, I'd have guessed that Juno was a girl. As it is, though, I hear a thump, and think that the person has fainted. But I'm proven wrong when someone crouches down to pick up something, shoves said thing into his pocket, before he walks up to the stage by himself. He seems to be going for the 'I'm confident in the face of the Games,' but beyond his appearance, I sense dread and shock. Juno is holding together well, though. He seems fit, probably from helping at the ranches. Maybe a better shot than most, and especially his partner. If only I knew what was in his pocket, which he has not let go of.

Albinus wraps everything up, and I grab my trusty notebook and write down my first impressions. Neither of them seem the rebellious kind, so I don't need to tamper with their odds or downplay them or anything. Just genuine first impressions.

* * *

 **Juno Taurus, 17**

 **District 10 Male**

* * *

My feigned composure breaks almost as soon as I'm led into the room. I let some tears out, before wiping them away. With some emotion vented, I try to think of how I'll make it out.

I can use a knife, I know that for sure, but getting one is really risky, and certainly I don't want to receive one the wrong way. Then, I realize that my left hand has been clutching my pocket for some time. It's my book. And I realize what an advantage this could be.

My parents and grandma come in first, and they have sadness mixed with a bit of terror worn on their faces. Dad just says, "we'll leave all the decisions to whoever your mentor is . . . we won't risk giving bad advice."

I understand what dad is saying, but I sort of want his take. But I can't get my mouth to say it, because I don't want to conflict dad. I embrace all of my family, and then just sit in sad silence until the time is up and they must leave.

A few minutes later, Jasper comes in, and he's apparently brimming with stuff, although it's hampered by sadness.

"Juno, you're at an advantage," I hear, "aside from the Careers, you can use a weapon, and you're healthy and fit. But I wouldn't show it, or the Careers would single you out, and make you a top priority."

It makes sense, but there's a problem with appearing weak with a strong build. Maybe I could go for mediocre.

"And . . . then . . ." but Jasper seems to have forgotten what he wanted to say. His eyes brim with tears, and he chokes out, "Sorry . . . I . . . can't remember . . ."

Him crying leads me to vent out more emotion, but I must appear tearless, at the very least, show that I'm emotionally strong in front of the cameras.

Jasper is taken away, and I'm left, with only me, and one golden book that could save my life.

* * *

 **Elizabella Lovelock, 16**

 **District 10 Female**

* * *

I start crying openly once I see my parents. I don't know if they have comforting words or not, but I won't be able to hear them. I'm trapped in my own world of sadness.

I'm being sent to be killed. Mom and dad hug me tightly, but it doesn't help me, if anything, more tears stream down my face.

All I do manage to hear is to run at the start. Run away. I don't have a shot in the bloodbath. Just get away.

When mom and dad leave, I cry harder than ever, I won't see them again, unless I make it out alive. But inside, I know I can't. I'll be taken down by something. A well-thrown knife. A powerful strike. Something . . .

Clementine comes in, and, thankfully, she doesn't call me Eliza. She tries to comfort me and stop the tears, but I can't stop them. They keep coming.

She tells me the same things that mom and dad said, but it's hopeless. Most likely, I'm dying and never seeing 10 again. Even my partner has a better shot than me.

Clementine just hugs me, wipe my face with her own sleeve, but my face is hopelessly marred with tears. Eventually, she's forced to leave, and I'm left alone with practically no chance of survival.

* * *

 **Just two districts left until the real stuff begins! These updates are taking a while, I know, but it probably won't get much better. Sorry. :( Other than that, I really don't have much else to say. Except for questions.**

 _ **How will Juno's book help him? He obviously won't be allowed to bring his book into the Games, but what will he do with it in the week before the games? Does Elizabella have a realistic chance with her state of mind? What will she do in the week prior?**_


	12. District 11 Reapings: Iris & Grer

**Here's District 11, agriculture! ButtonFan20 submitted the male, and I'm the Original Crybaby (now NewestHunterofArtemis) submitted the female. Stop changing your names, it's confusing me . . . ;)**

* * *

 **Iris Thorn, 14**

 **District 11 Female**

* * *

Morning already?

I stretch before getting up from my top bunk, always being careful not to hit my head on the ceiling. Did that one too many times.

Looking down from my bunk, I see Trill sprawled on her own bed, asleep. I have to take advantage.

I silently climb down from my bed, and stealthily walk over to the calendar, where I write an 'I' on the date labeled with a 19.

Satisfied with my victory, I now make some intentional noise walking back to the bed, and then shake Trill gently.

She yawns, before looking up. I see her eyes dart to the calendar, before scowling.

"Chalk that up as a victory for me."

"I'll get you tomorrow. Before today, I won 13 times in a row," my twin sister shoots back.

Now is my turn to scowl. Then we both get up, change, facing away from each other, of course, then head downstairs for breakfast.

Dad's making pancakes, which are always good. We don't need to worry about food shortages, unlike most of the people of 11, who aren't as fortunate. As mayor, dad's always wanted to be allowed to hand out some of the food we have, but the Capitol doesn't allow it. Although, behind their back, dad does a bit of giving anyway.

Dad claims that mom made better pancakes than himself, and that he just learned from her. But neither Trill nor I remember her. She died a few days after we were born, dad says.

At the noise of our footsteps, dad says, almost automatically, "Who?"

"I did, dad," I say proudly.

"Doesn't that make it 2-17 this month?" dad asks?

I don't respond, but Trill takes this as another opportunity to prove that the older twin is always better. "Yep. Typical month."

Sometimes it seems like Trill is actually better at nearly everything. Not _everything_ , per say, but a lot of things. Usually, she does better in school, and is more efficient in harvest. Again, not always, but she likes to take every possible opportunity to show it.

On the bright side, as dad always says, it makes me more determined, most of the time. I can shrug off her show-offing. Again, most of the time.

Dad finishes the pancakes and lays it out for all of us. After this, we head out to help with the harvest. Being the mayor or his family doesn't exempt you from that. Not that I mind much, anyway.

* * *

 **Grer Cunningham, 15**

 **District 11 Male**

* * *

I suppose being assigned to pick apples in the orchard forces you to face your fear of heights. The peacekeepers just won't listen to any reasoning.

I must be over 30 feet in the air. If I fall, I'll at least get injured, if not worse.

 _Just pick them_ , I tell myself. _The faster you finish the load, the sooner you can set foot on the ground again._

Which is true, but only to deposit my load. Then it's back up into the trees again.

Don't look at the ground, I tell myself. Grab apples. The first apples of the season.

These are really early apples. Most of them won't be really ready until at least late August, but these trees yield earlier than the rest.

I do look down, but not at the ground, instead at the bucket, which seems nearly full. At most, it'll hold about 10 more apples. Great.

Unfortunately, I've just about exhausted the branch I'm on, so I'm forced to climb to a higher branch to finish the current load.

I start hurrying slightly, wanting badly to get down. The bucket's close enough that I can safely drop the apples in, thankfully, so I don't need to repeatedly climb up and down. Some people are lucky and get strap-on stuff they can attach to their backs, so they'll always have the bucket with them. I have to use a bucket, and it's a pain to safely bring down _from_ the tree.

I drop the last apple in, and it barely stays in the bucket. Definitely full now.

I climb down, and grab the rope I have with me. Tying it onto the top of the bucket, I carefully lower it down, making sure not to fall myself.

After the bucket safely reaches the ground, I drop the rope, and then climb down the tree, glad to be alive and uninjured.

I untie the rope from the bucket, lift it, and then carry it to the deposit 'box,' really a wheelbarrow, which is about a third full. I see other people coming from other trees to deposit their apples. We don't need to worry about mixing, all the trees here are of the same type.

After depositing, I head back to my tree, and look up. I'll need to climb higher each time.

I sigh, knowing that I must, whether I want to or not. I grab the rope, tie on the bucket, so I don't need to hold anything while I climb, and hoist myself onto the tree.

Climbing up to where I left off, I untie the bucket, and find a somewhat secure place to leave the bucket, and then go out to pick those apples.

I wish apples grew on bushes, not trees. Oh well.

* * *

 **Iris Thorn, 14**

 **District 11 Female**

* * *

Corn is delicious, and it's relatively easy to pick.

Well, I suppose, we don't peel off the leaves here. That's done inside, away from whatever weather's out here. Today's nice though. A near-noon sun, and it's a pretty comfortable temperature, right now.

In fact, this isn't even the season for corn. But since those scientists came up with some corn that ripens in the middle of summer, we've been picking them. They taste the same, the only difference is when it ripens.

I get some benefits out here from being the daughter of the mayor; I get a backpack type basket so I don't need to carry it with me, and some respect too, which is cool.

I grab a stalk, and twist the ear of corn off, and plop it into my basket. I do hope that one of my friends is out here too. It'll make picking easier, or funner, I guess.

I jump as high as I can to try to pick out _someone_ from the mass of corn, but as I jump the first time, I realize it's hopeless. The stalks are too tall for me to see over.

Resigning, I go back to picking, but, after a few minutes, as I turn corner in the field, I see Tanya and Clive Apple, another set of twins, another set of _identical_ twins. Ironically, I tend to hang out with Tanya more, while Trill gets with Clive more. On top of that, Tanya's the younger of the two, which, I suppose, is why I like her more than Clive, but we're all good friends anyway.

The two don't seem to notice me, at least not yet, so I go on stealth mode, slipping between the cornstalks. I'm pretty thin, so it isn't that hard to go through the field without rustling much. The main concern is really being seen, dark skin doesn't blend well in corn fields.

But right now, both have their backs turned, if now's not the time, it will never be.

"Boo!" I half-yell, popping out of the cornfield. Both jump, and Clive runs into a stalk.

After recovering, Clive grabs me and shakes me slightly, which I laugh at, while I wrestle out of her grip.

"I definitely got both of you though," I say. "Do you want to pick together?"

"I'll get you back," Clive says, while Tanya just smiles.

We walk along together, picking corn. I look into their baskets and notice they're close to being full. I strain my neck to look behind me, and see that I'm almost full too.

But right before I can suggest going back, Tanya beats me to it. "I'm nearly out of space, want to head back?"

Both Clive and I nod, and we head back to the unloading area. It seems strangely quiet here, though, normally there's more people unloading.

I reach into my pocket and pull out a watch, and gasp slightly. We're 15 minutes late to lunch.

We quickly dump our corn, and then race off.

* * *

 **Grer Cunningham, 15**

 **District 11 Male**

* * *

After a bland and boring lunch, I get assigned apples. Again.

Not that I'm surprised. I've been picking apples for a week. At least, I'm going with a friend this time. I've known Izid Carn pretty much for my whole life, as we live only a few houses away from each other.

We work together only sometimes though, depending on how the peacekeepers decide to do stuff.

Izid and I find our assigned tree and climb, Izid going before me. Climbing trees is pretty much second-nature to us now, even though the height is scary.

All the lowest apples have been picked off this tree, so we have to climb higher. We're maybe 35-40 feet off the ground before we reach the first apples.

I just focus on picking apples for a bit, and making sure not to fall off. I nearly drop the first apple, though, because I forget where my bucket is. I curse silently, before putting the apple in the bucket.

"Grer, are you ok?" Izid calls.

I know she's on the other side of the tree, so I turn around cautiously. "I'm ok, I just forgot where my bucket was."

This apparently is funny to her, as I hear her giggle slightly. I sigh, and continue with my job.

Some people actually get descent tools to pick apples, like extendy things which actually reach into the tree and pick like that. I've never gotten to use one, I wish otherwise, though. It seems to make picking so much easier, and less risky too.

Do the peacekeepers care for our well-being? No, they just send pretty much our entire population over 10 to pick food.

I grab another apple and drop it in, exhausting the current branch. I grab the next highest, and hoist myself on.

* * *

 **Iris Thorn, 14**

 **District 11 Female**

* * *

The peacekeepers are, at least, kind enough to let us kids (meaning 10-17 year olds) off at 8. Everyone else, though, is done two hours later, at 10.

We're directed to the cornfield again. Rarely do we actually switch crops in the middle of the day, so I'm prepared for it.

I'm walk ahead of Tanya and Clive when I hear something somewhere to my right. Turning, I see Trill running, trying to catch up with us. I smile, and the four of us march to the cornfield.

"You were switched?" I ask Trill.

"They say I was assigned to the wrong thing." She responds.

"Betcha that only the mayor's daughter would get that privilege, cause even if you're assigned to the wrong thing, I think they'd just leave you there for the rest of the day," Clive says.

The four of us march into the cornfield, prepared to absolutely annihilate it. Well, metaphorically speaking, anyway. The point is, I'm expecting us to take down the corn relatively fast, since there's four of us.

That doesn't go as planned, though, as I trip right at the entrance, causing everyone behind me to fall on top of me.

My right shoulder disagrees, but it shouldn't be anything bad. Once everyone gets up, I stretch it, and it seems fine.

"Thanks, Iris," Tanya says kiddingly.

I sigh, shake my head, and then we continue into the cornfield. However, the entrance for several yards is devoid of corn, as it's already been picked. Once we get away from the entrance, though, we start picking like crazy.

I suppose we're like a lawnmower cutting grass. The corn has no chance against us. Well, it already had no chance, but we're just going fast.

After some time of picking, we run across more friends, and the first thing I think is that our group of four will be a group of six. I see Trail and Caritta Sirco working away about 40 yards ahead.

Fortunately for my sanity, they aren't identical twins. In fact, they aren't twins at all, separated by a bit over a year and a half. They're also not really alike, save for the dark skin practically everyone here has.

I run ahead, and wave at the two. They look up, and see me. I then direct their attention to behind me, to Clive, Tanya, and Trill coming up pretty fast, considering they're grabbing every single ear of corn.

Understanding immediately, they join us, and we become faster than ever.

* * *

 **Grer Cunningham, 15**

 **District 11 Male**

* * *

I sigh with relief as I pour my apples into the wheelbarrow, darkened by the waning light. I put down my bucket and rope, and then head home for the day.

Of course, mom and dad won't be home for at least two more hours, so my family has worked it out with Izid and another friend's families that we'll all stay together in my house for the two hours.

I don't know where Afold is, though. Our houses are pretty close to the fields, it's only a few minutes walk away.

I sigh, and unlock the door, using the key cleverly hidden in the plants.

Izid and I walk in, and we automatically start making dinner for ourselves. Some tessare grain, which is distasteful as always, and a half-slice of potato. That's one meal for everyone.

I hear the doorbell ring, and know it must be Afold. I go to the door, and he comes in. Seeming to know what I'm about to ask, he says, "Sorry I'm late. I sort of lost track of time, and worked for too long."

"I didn't think you _could_ work for too long," I hear Izid say from the kitchen. "Here, we've already made dinner."

I see him wince slightly at the tessare grain, but he eats anyway. We don't have much choice here.

Feeling unusually tired today, after I eat, I tell Afold and Izid that I'll just head to bed, and they can tell my parents that I'm asleep already and just go home when their parents come. They probably already know this, but whatever.

Just another day of work.

* * *

 **Iris Thorn, 14**

 **District 11 Female**

* * *

As soon as I wake up, I look at the calendar, only to see a large 'T' written on the box marked with the 20. Ugh.

I look over my bed, and see no sign of Trill. Sighing, I get up, and change out of my nightclothes.

I walk down the 16 stairs to the bottom floor and head to the dining room. Trill's already eating. By now, I'm not surprised.

"Guess who won?" Trill asks, clearly trying to rub it in.

I sigh, not responding, knowing that's the best way to defuse Trill. She waits for a bit, before finishing her food.

One thing that caught my eye was that the Reaping is tomorrow. Of course it's tomorrow. My third reaping. I remember my first. Trill and I were unnecessarily freaked out of our minds. But combined, we were only in two times. Now, it's six times total, but way more than likely, we're both going to be safe. We've never needed to take out tessare. We'll be fine.

Emerging out of my thoughts, I realize that I've finished my entire meal without really realizing what I was doing. I suppose the Reaping makes stuff like that happen. I try to shake out of it, but my gut tells me that something bad's going to happen.

If something bad happens, I hope the bad thing isn't getting reaped.

* * *

 **Grer Cunningham, 15**

 **District 11 Male**

* * *

Amazing. I actually didn't get assigned to apples. Instead, I got assigned to cotton, specifically, picking it from the field and then dumping it into machines which remove the seeds. Really, the cotton doesn't have much seeds in it, but dad says it used to be a lot worse, before some scientists came up with some way to make cotton with barely any seeds.

The annoying thing about cotton is that it's just about everywhere. You can't use a systematic method that's more than moving from generally left to generally right. It's just everywhere.

This sort of reminds me of the Reaping, how it's not systematic at all, it just plucks two kids from here to death, most likely. And like cotton, there's nothing you can do but to face the trials.

Thankfully, it's not very hot today, maybe a comfortable 70 degrees.

After picking for maybe a few hours, I stretch and look around. I see people here and there, but for maybe a 25 yard radius, I'm all alone.

I wonder what Izid and Afold are doing. Maybe I'll see them at lunch.

And of course, right as I say that, the bell goes off, audible over all the fields.

* * *

 **Iris Thorn, 14**

 **District 11 Female**

* * *

I sit down from a long morning, again in the corn fields. Only Tanya was also assigned corn, I don't have a clue what Trill and Clive were assigned. I scan the tables, trying to find the two, but don't see them.

I suppose that I shouldn't be searching for them together, as I don't even know that. But even then, it takes me a bit longer to find Trill. I nudge Tanya, and we head there together, holding our food.

I tap Trill on her left shoulder, which apparently startles her. I then sit to her left, and Tanya sits on _my_ left.

I eat half-way though my food before someone speaks up. "Where were you two?" Trill asks me and Tanya.

"We were in the cornfield again, Trill," Tanya says, right before I say it myself.

"I did peanuts," Trill says.

"Do you think one of us will get switched again?" I ask Trill.

"Dunno. We'll see."

I excuse myself, and take my leftovers (really just an apple core) and throw it into a trash bin, along with the paper bag the lunch came in. I then go back to the table and wait for either Tanya and Trill to finish or for the lunch-over bell to be rung.

The former happens first, and the three of us head out to be assigned new fields.

I actually listen to what Tanya and Trill are assigned to, Trill's going peanut again, and Tanya's going to go pick corn again, but I'm reassigned to do peanuts with my sister.

Maybe Clive is right that mayor's daughters get some privileges, even if in secret.

* * *

 **Grer Cunningham, 15**

 **District 11 Male**

* * *

Cotton again. Why am I not surprised.

Fortunately for my sanity, Afold turned out to also be cotton, but we were too far away from each other to realize.

Now, though, we work side by side.

"Do you know where Izid is?" Afold asks after some picking.

"No, I didn't see him at lunch."

Silence continues for a bit, before I realize that I've never wondered this question. "Afold, what's your favorite crop?"

Afold turns and looks quizzically at me. "Like, to eat, or to pick?"

"Uh . . . both?"

Afold frowns slightly, then says, "I like eating rice, but I don't like picking it. I think I like picking corn because it's relatively easy to pick while there's stalks to hide from the sun."

I don't like cotton when it's hot, but now, in this weather, it's pretty nice. But the most delicious is corn, assuming it's juicy. Mmmmmm.

We go back to work. I glance at the sun, which says about two. A lot more left.

* * *

 **Iris Thorn, 14**

 **District 11 Female**

* * *

 _Stand up and stretch_ , I tell myself.

It has to be almost 8 now. I look over my back, and see Trill picking away.

"Trill, I'm almost full, ready to go back?"

Trill stops picking, turns around, and looks at my bucket, most likely comparing. She doesn't say anything though, which I'm glad for, except for, "Yeah, sure thing Iris."

We start walking back to the unloading station together.

"Tomorrow?" Trill asks me.

I gulp, slightly nervously, but try to push it away. "I think so."

When the Reaping happens, the entire district comes together in more ways than one. Not just physically, and there's always huge overflows given the enormity of our district, but also emotionally.

Dad always makes it a point to visit the two families who lost their child to the Reaping. Dad says, once, one family lost two kids in the same Reaping, so he visited them for twice as long as he would otherwise.

We reach the unloading dock just as the 8 o'clock bell rings. The bored peacekeeper waves us through, and we dump our peanuts into the wheelbarrow. Then we head home, the large house right next to the Square.

* * *

 **Grer Cunningham, 15**

 **District 11 Male**

* * *

The three of us, having made something to eat already, just sit on the floor. Tomorrow's the Reaping.

I ask quietly, "How many times?"

Izid, after counting on her fingers, says, "Five times a year, so 20," in a small voice.

Afold's not volunteering the information, but he's an only, like me, so he should be in 16 times.

I tell them, and then we just sit there. It's the Reaping. Every year, the odds get worse until the escape at 18. But, of course, that's the year with the worst odds. It's said that the 18 year old who was sent a few years ago was in over 90 times.

Normally, the three of us would find a game or something to wait for two hours, but no one suggests such a thing. We just look at each other for a while.

After a bit, Izid, who apparently can't stand the silence anymore, gets up, and grabs some cards. "Hearts?"

I sigh, and say yes. Afold just nods.

The game, as everything during this time, though, is dampened. There aren't smiles, scowls, or anything. Everyone wears a monotone face. Even when I win, I don't smile. Maybe because 'winning' the Reaping is really losing.

Everyone's sensing, though, that no one's really having fun, so we stop playing. After a bit more, Izid and Afold's parents come and pick up my friends, and mom and dad come in. I hug my mom, who I'm now the same height as, and then dad, before heading up to sleep.

Who knows, though, if I'll get any?

* * *

 **Iris Thorn, 14**

 **District 11 Female**

* * *

I wake up with a start. A nightmare. I shudder. However, on the bright side, the nightmare is already disappearing. Dreams are forgettable, fortunately.

From the window, I see that the sun has just cleared the horizon. It must be early. However, there are dark clouds too, so it might rain later today.

Trill's still sound asleep. Good. I climb down, and claim the 21st. Then again, claiming the Reaping day might not be so good. It's a victory, at least.

The Reaping for us starts at 3:30 PM. I don't care to watch the other districts, and there's no work today, so I'll just hang out with friends, I guess. It'll help me before the Reaping, anyway.

But not now, apparently. It's 6:13 in the morning. I don't think even dad's up yet.

I traverse the house, finding nothing to do in the largest house in 11 except for the Victor's houses. Shaking my head, I go back to sleep.

I wake maybe a few hours later, free of nightmares. I look down, and see Trill's now up, maybe now I should get up too.

This time, I smell breakfast, and sure enough, dad's laid out a larger breakfast for me and Trill, because it's the Reaping day.

I breathe in the fine smell, and go sit down next to Trill, who looks quizzically at me.

"Got up at 6, if that's what you're wondering, then I went back to sleep."

Trill shakes her head, before continuing with her meal.

* * *

 **Grer Cunningham, 15**

 **District 11 Male**

* * *

It's nice to get outside without having to work, you can just enjoy the sun.

Except there is no sun to enjoy, because, of all days, today has to be rainy. Fun.

Since it would be well-advised not to go outside, I head into my room to put on my Reaping clothes, which is really just nice clothes that I've made a point not to wear at the fields. It's a bit small now, so we'll probably need to buy one next year.

My movement isn't restricted, though, so that's good.

I watch the clock creep towards Reaping time. District 11 has an odd tradition that no one eats lunch on the day of the Reaping. Not everyone respects it, but I know that a lot of people do, and that includes our family, and pretty much this entire neighborhood. I suppose that it helps everyone feel the pain. I don't know for sure.

My stomach growls, because it apparently knows that this would be the time where I eat lunch anyway. But I easily push the hunger away. I've missed too many meals for me to not know how to do that. This will just be one of those days where the peacekeepers say that they don't have enough food in the stores to feed everyone.

I try to imagine what the arena will be like. For the past three years, it's been forest, which has drawn criticism from some, according to the commentators, so I doubt there will be another one of those.

I vaguely remember a desert arena with scattered oasis' and optical illusions, and then a cavelike arena, which is the most creative one I can remember.

Maybe they'll bring back the cave one.

I glance at the clock, it's almost half-past 12. I shudder slightly. Three more hours.

* * *

 **Iris Thorn, 14**

 **District 11 Female**

* * *

The Sirco's house should be around here, _somewhere._ Did I make a wrong turn somewhere? Ugh.

And all I wanted was to find them and talk a bit because I missed them yesterday.

After more wandering, I finally spot the Sirco's blue house. I knock, and their mom answers.

"Hi, uh, Trill?"

 _Ugh_ , my brain immediately says, but I suppress a disgusted response. Instead, I say, "Actually, I'm Iris. Can I just talk with Caritta and Trail?"

"I'm sorry, Iris. Of course."

I walk in, and see Trail and Caritta playing a board game, looks like Scrabble. Caritta's keeping score.

"Hi," I casually say, flopping onto the floor next to them.

"Oh, hello, Iris," Trail responds. "Charter, 12 points times two, 24 points."

Caritta verifies it before recording the score.

I'm somewhat familiar with Scrabble, but they have the only game set in the district as far as I know. The two of them are, by far, the best. When Trill and I play them, the two of us get beat every time. Usually, it's not even close.

I just watch the two of them battle it out. Trail ends up winning, but only by seven points.

I glance at the clock. 2:34. Well, if anything, I got to spend time with friends, and lighten the mood some before the Reaping.

I tell them that I have to head back now, and wish Caritta and Trail good luck.

* * *

 **Grer Cunningham, 15**

 **District 11 Male**

* * *

"Ready?" mom asks.

I sigh, knowing it's inevitable. "I suppose."

The front door opens, and before I know what happens, we're at the already crowded Square.

I force a smile on my face, and hug my parents, then enter the 'restricted' area, for the Reaping eligible only.

I get my finger pricked, to confirm my identity, then head to my section, the 15 year old boy's section.

Izid would be on the other side, on the girls' side, but Afold should be here. But I can't find him before someone different, not our usual district escort, walks up onto the stage.

* * *

 **Iris Thorn, 14**

 **District 11 Female**

* * *

I see dad on the stage, in the same place every year, as far as I can remember. What's different, however, is the escort. She introduces herself as Denilah.

Really, though, that's the only thing different. She goes through the video, the speech, and I bet that only the 12 year olds, and maybe some 13's are even paying attention to this anymore. All we want, most of us, anyway, is for this to pass.

Finally, Denilah moves on to the girls bowl. In that bowl, six of those slips are either mine or Trill's, and despite our rivalry, I definitely do not want Trill ending up in the arena.

Then, there are all my friends, and they must account for 30 more slips, at least, so the odds aren't really in my favor of someone I don't know going into the arena.

I squeeze my sister's hand as Denilah selects the slip of paper, and hoping, hoping hoping.

But my life gets flipped upside down when I hear my own name called by the escort.

Is there a bright side to this? To being sent to the games? My mind scratches, but I can't think of anything worse than to be sent to my own demise.

* * *

 **Grer Cunningham, 15**

 **District 11 Male**

* * *

"Iris Thorn!" I hear, and automatically recognize the last name of the mayor, Mr. Durain Thorn. One of the mayor's kids is going?

I see the shocked face of the mayor, before he manages to twist it back into a somewhat normal, somewhat composed face.

Then I see Iris. I've actually never seen the mayor's kids before, but she definitely is. Iris seems to be having some conflict, but she manages to get herself on-stage.

That's all the drama I needed to see before Denilah smiles, walks over to the other side of the stage, and selects a bowl from the boy's bowl. Are the odds for me? I desperately wish for the odds to be in my favor.

And then the name. Denilah says in a clear voice, "Grer Cunningham!"

I was reaped. I was just reaped. What every kid hopes to avoid just happened to me. A wave of fear, panic, and dread washes over me, and I feel myself losing my balance.

I catch myself, knowing I must go, and for my best chance, I have to go, and not be dragged.

I try to calm, but the metaphorical wave is just increasing, and if I don't go now, I know I'll never go on my own, so, I start walking up the stairs of doom.

* * *

 **Johnathan Wilford**

 **Head Gamemaker**

* * *

This will certainly be interesting, at least, for a District 11 pair.

The girl is one of two daughters of the current mayor. She probably lived a relatively high-life, so it will be interesting to see how she will try to survive in the arena. At least, she seems fit.

As for the boy, he's fit too, but he seems more like a typical District 11 tribute, thin, but probably agile and fast. However, something tells me that this kid might find it hard to kill. I don't know.

I write my observations down, and then massage my eyes. There's only thirty minutes of Reapings left. Then I can stop staring at the television and get those pre-Parade odds out.

One more district to go.

* * *

 **Iris Thorn, 14**

 **District 11 Female**

* * *

 _I'm not supposed to be here_ , says my befuddled mind. _I'm the mayor's child, I had the odds in my favor._

But it didn't matter, did it. I'm in here.

Before I know it, dad and Trill are in here, and I hug Trill with all my might, I'll probably never see her again, as now, the odds have flipped against me.

"Trill . . . dad" I choke out, "what's the bright side . . . where is it . . .?"

But I don't get a response, which only wrecks me even further, and I realize that I'm not paying attention to anything, but it doesn't matter, my family doesn't have anything to say.

I feel something slip into my pocket, which must be my token. I don't look at it, in the state I'm in.

Before I know anything else, my family is forced to leave, and it's too quick. I need more time.

Then, four familiar faces enter my field of vision, and I feel some tears cross my face. I wipe them, but I hear my friends say that it's ok, and natural to cry. I see some tears from them as well.

But other than that, they're as silent as my own family, and I try to give them all a hug, but once again, I need more time, because they're gone all too soon.

I need more time.

* * *

 **Grer Cunningham, 15**

 **District 11 Male**

* * *

My parents seem composed for me. They know how to give me the best chance they can give me.

"Grer, are you there?" dad asks, very worriedly. I can't find my voice, but I nod.

"You're strong from working and you can climb, _please_ , for me and mom, use it to your advantage," dad almost orders, but I understand why he's using that tone of voice.

"We'll understand if you can't come back," mom adds, "and we can't expect more than your best. We'll always love you." Mom then gives me a very emotional kiss on the cheek, and for the first time, I don't pull away out of disgust. I let mom.

Then mom and dad leave, and then, my only friends come in, Izid and Afold. I wish I could have found Afold before, if not for more time together.

Afold, though, doesn't have anything to say, and Izid barely has words. All she says is, "Just . . . try to find somewhere like here."

They're like my emotional crutches right now, and when they go, I put my shirt sleeve over my eyes to dry up all the tears that threaten to redden my face. At least, only my eyes will be red.

I try to calm myself for the cameras, but I don't know if I can do it.

* * *

 **I blame the Olympics for how long this update took. XD GO TEAM USA! Anyway, there's only one more district left! Starting new characters are hard, and I think after the Reapings are done, it should be easier, but I don't know.**

 _ **Will Iris ever find a bright side? Will being the mayor's daughter benefit her or hurt her? How about Grer and his chances? How might his experience help him in the games?**_


	13. District 12 Reapings: Luna & Rayne

**Here's the very last district, District 12! (Well actually, it's not the last district, *hint hint*) Skyheart033 sent me the male, and xQueen-Of-Applesx sent me the female. Last district, peeps!**

* * *

 **Luna Linwood, 16**

 **District 12 Female**

* * *

The sun is beautiful when it rises. The reds and oranges compliment each other so well.

It's also my cue to find food for the family. Dad works and I take out tessare, but it's almost always not enough.

I grab two knives from the kitchen, a backpack, and a jacket, and head out to the hole in the fence.

I'm not a hunter by any means. The knives are for protection, the backpack for the various plants that grow in the wilderness.

Mom thought there might be trouble after she found out she was pregnant when I was about four years old. Dad, already in his 40's, was already working hard in the mines to support the three of us.

Now nearly 50, I've learned to help where I can. I've gotten into this routine with plants. Dad didn't know much about plants; he only knew one type of edible plant, but I managed to find some of that plant, and relieved dad for one day at least.

I've also figured out some other edible plants, by watching other animals eat plants, but once, I ate one plant and got violently sick. Since then, even if I see another animal eat a plant, I only eat a tiny piece of it and monitor myself for a day.

But I don't do that often now. Most of the time, I can find enough plants that I know are safe.

Even now, the indication of an animal drives my 'better safe than sorry' sense and causes me to camp in a tree for a few minutes. As I said, the knives are for protection, and mainly warding off animals. I don't know if I could actually use a knife against an animal.

I wander a bit, but making sure I know where I am so I don't get lost, and come across a small field of white plants that we had a few days ago.

I quickly scan the area for animals that might consider me breakfast, before going into the clearing to harvest the plants.

* * *

 **Rayne Cannley, 13**

 **District 12 Male**

* * *

Halfway thorough summer means the Reaping is coming soon.

I made it, somehow, through my first year. I hope the next years won't be as bad.

What I experienced last year is what Jessie is going to go through this year. She's already broken down once, two days ago, and, even now, mom's trying to get Jessie out of bed.

I suppose I can't say anything, Hope says that I was somewhat the same last year.

Easy for her to say, though. This is her _fourth_ reaping.

I don't know how she willingly takes 5 tessare each year without so much as breaking a sweat though. If anything, she should be where Jessie is right now. Her name is in, like, at least 20 times, compared to only twice for me.

And, as I sit on the couch fiddling with a deck of cards, Hope is sitting on another chair, groaning, waiting for Jessie to get over her 'episode' as she calls it.

"Hope?"

She groans again, and then says, "Yeah?"

"Solitare?" I ask, finding another deck of cards.

"Anything so I don't have to hear Jessie," she sighs.

We lay out our cards, and start going as quick as we can.

I think I'm going very well, until Hope goes on a foundation-layout rampage, and all of a sudden, she's probably ahead of me, and I panic, and play right into Hope's hands as she plays all her cards.

"Don't play the 10 of diamonds, that just lets me finish," she says, winking. "You have to pay attention to where I am."

Just then, Jessie, her eyes all red and swollen, nearly trips out of her room. Hope's smile quickly devolves into a frown, but I sympathize with Jessie. She goes to eat a small breakfast, still releasing tears occasionally.

"Don't you even start, Rayne," Hope says, glaring at me.

I put my hands up defensively. "Ok, ok, ok, this isn't my first."

* * *

 **Luna Linwood, 16**

 **District 12 Female**

* * *

I stretch my back, and look up at the sky. I've been gone for maybe a few hours. The pack on my back is getting heavy. This should be enough to last my family maybe up to a week if we're careful with it.

I decide that it is enough. I shake the stiffness out of my limbs, and gauge my location. I really could navigate back home with my eyes closed, but I check the sun just in case. As I suspected, west is the right direction. But west is left and left is not right . . . whatever.

I trek back through the familiar woods when I hear something foreign, definitely not my footsteps. I slightly panic, and search for a tree with a low branch. I run forwards for about 10 yards to a candidate tree, and hoist myself up. Now in relative safety, I look around for the source of the noise, and see a squirrel scampering across the ground.

Shaking my head, I climb back down. I head back to the hole, crawl under, making sure I don't get too close to the wires, and head back home.

I plop my bag on the table, and start to look for my sister and my mom. Of course, dad's in the mines.

But right as I start turning in circles, Astra bounds in from behind a wall, and before I can do anything, she opens my backpack to see what I managed to find.

I sigh. I know that Astra won't complain since I did find food, but I can tell she's a bit tired of having the same plants and tessare portions nearly every single day.

"Look, I know the food's boring," I say, "but that's what we have. Some people don't even have this to eat. If you're going to be unhappy with the food -"

"I know this lecture, Luna, mom's given it to me enough times, I can go hungry if I want. I know. I'll eat."

"Then you'll need to understand."

Astra just nods, before letting me go to put the plants away.

My mom's just relaxing on the couch. I hold up the bag, and she smiles and nods. Going to the kitchen, I put the plants in the icebox, which works despite the fact that we can't count on electricity. For one, there's ice in the icebox, so if there's no electricity, the ice will keep it cool. For two, it's usually cool anyway, so the plants won't spoil anyway, and three, we have electricity about half the time.

With the gathering done for the week, I tell my mom I'm heading out. She knows I'm an outdoors person, but she has me take a bit to eat. Mom cares if we don't get enough to eat, it doesn't matter too much where. So I just grab a bit, and head out.

* * *

 **Rayne Cannley, 13**

 **District 12 Male**

* * *

Why can't the Capitol hand out better tessare, at least?

The tessare doesn't cook well, but it's even worse uncooked. I'm sure that the Capitol, which they show glimpses of on the TV occasionally, has much finer stuff than this in abundance. Oh well, I'm not _there_ , I'm _here_ , in District 12, the poorest district there is.

I eat my tessare portion, along with a half-apple mom managed to find somewhere. Looking up, Jessie's still moping slightly and is eating slowly, while Hope has just finished right before me. Mom is clearly not happy, either with the small rations, or with Jessie, or both, or something else.

Sighing, I excuse myself, and put away my plate into the small kitchen sink.

"Oh, don't forget, Marie is coming over tonight for dinner," mom says, right before I leave the kitchen.

Whoops. I _totally_ remembered that.

Marie Adams is practically the only person besides family that I would say more than 10 words to.

Ok, maybe that was an exaggeration. I mean, there's school, and then, there's Marie's family, but I digress.

Simply put, she's probably my best friend out there. She lives a full hour of walking away, though, so we don't get together much. When we do, we just play games, most often with cards, since there really aren't many other games in 12 to begin with, and talk about what has happened since we last got a chance to talk.

This time though, as has happened last year, we just talked about the Reapings, guesses for the arena, and whatnot.

I turn to see if Jessie's done eating, only to be met by an empty table. If Jessie didn't pass me leaving, she must have gone to her bedroom she shares with Hope. No doubt she's going crazy again. Ugh.

I head to her room and knock.

"Go away!" I hear Jessie's desperate voice call out.

And before I can do anything, Hope's right next to me, seemingly ready to strangle Jessie. Oh dear.

* * *

 **Luna Linwood, 16**

 **District 12 Female**

* * *

Our house is located where the Seam and the stores start to blend together. There is not exact boundary line between the two, they just transition over the course of maybe a quarter of a mile from stores to Seam, or vice versa. We happen to live in a more Seam-like house, but it's not exactly Seam.

Most on the 'left' side, as everyone says, that's the Seam area, has roughly the same dark-hair, grey or brown eyes, and an olive complexion. On the other side, people on the 'right' side, the stores area, usually have blond hair and blue eyes, and more whiteish skin.

The middle section can vary. I happen to have the right's blond hair, but I have green eyes that seem to come from nowhere, and so does Astra, but she has more blondish brown hair, if that makes any sense. We all have the Seam's olive skin, but it's still ever so slightly lighter.

Sometimes, I just enjoy walking the main stretch of road that connects the two main parts of 12; how the people change from well-off to poor. No surprise, then, that we're in the middle, closer to poor.

My friends, my closest friends, at least, live in the Seam, undoubtedly. They don't have it easy, but they manage, just like everyone here.

I find myself standing in front of Lily Barnaby's home, after walking the stretch of road. Even though she's a full two years older than myself, we're still close friends, along with Tate Ashton.

I decide that while I'm here, I might as well visit for a few hours. I knock on the door, but to my surprise, Tate opens the door, looking as surprised as me.

"Hey, Luna, why are you here?" Tate asks.

"Well, I was walking outside, and decided to drop by. Why are _you_ here?"

"Same reason, funnily enough. Lily will _love_ this." Tate then runs upstairs.

While she does that, I step inside, taking in the small but lovely house, and shut the door behind me.

* * *

 **Rayne Cannley, 13**

 **District 12 Male**

* * *

"Hi, Marie," I say, opening the door for Marie's family. "Hello, Mrs. Adams, Mr. Adams. Where's Brooke?" I notice, all of a sudden.

"Boo!" Brooke suddenly appears, jumping out from behind the door-frame. Surprised, I jump back slightly. Then, realizing, I frown, while Brooke giggles.

"Mrs. Adams, would you like me to take the dish over to the kitchen?" I ask, remembering my manners.

"Oh, only if you don't mind, Rayne. Thank you." she says, handing over the dish.

Marie goes with me to the kitchen. The dish is wrapped, so I don't know what it is, but it sure smells good.

There's a period of time where mom has to prepare the food, so Marie and I find a relatively quiet corner of the house, and sit together. Because I was _totally_ prepared for this, I get back up momentarily to grab some cards.

"Are you ready?" Marie asks me.

"For the Reaping? I think so. Jessie threw this huge fit over it this morning, though."

"She's turning 12, right?"

"No, she already _is_ 12\. I think Hope nearly strangled Jesse today, about 100 times. This is her fourth, she's like, _used_ to it, if it's possible to get used to the Reapings. She's even taking five tessare a year on top of that."

"Wow. You know that Brooke is 10, right?" I nod in response. "She had a breakdown last year because _I_ was going to go through my first reaping. _She_ , not _me_. Then again, I am taking four tessare, so maybe she has a right to be concerned, but it still felt a bit extreme."

"How is she this year?"

"I think she's accepted it, and I think she's just gotten a bit better at bottling her emotions. I don't know."

"To be honest," I say, "I'm a bit scared this year as well, but I think getting through it once helps."

Marie just nods, understanding. Then, we're called to dinner.

* * *

 **Luna Linwood, 16**

 **District 12 Female**

* * *

"It's almost night, I'd better be heading back," I tell Lily, "thanks for having us!"

"Well, it wasn't exactly planned, but, sure. Have a good night!"

Even the Seam can be cheerful. We totally would have talked more, but then mom would wonder where I was.

Turned out that Tate also had a bit to eat, so we had a bit of a mini-dinner altogether. Then, we just played a bit of a memory game until the sun got close to setting.

I smile, remembering my friends. We have fun together, we help each other.

When I get home, I see that the rest of my family is finishing a small dinner. "Hi."

"Where were you?" mom asks.

"The Barnaby's. Tate was there, too."

"Oh, really? That's odd."

"Weird coincidence. I already ate dinner, can I go to bed?"

"Wait, wait," Astra says, "you gotta try this. Mom found a way for that plant you found to taste really good!"

Huh. I walk over and grab a smaller leaf, and bite. My eyebrows raise almost immediately. "Wow, that is good."

I finish off the small leaf. "Thanks, mom. Good night," I say, hugging both mom and dad. Then, I head upstairs to bed."

* * *

 **Rayne Cannley, 13**

 **District 12 Male**

* * *

Bright sunlight flows into my eyes as a new day begins. Today is special, though, it's the day before the Reaping.

But, once I get up, I notice that the sunlight is _too_ bright, considering I just got up, and then realize that I must have slept in, because I stayed up for a while yesterday.

I change quickly and walk down the short hallway into the kitchen, and then realize that it's over half-past 10.

"Sleepy?" mom asks.

I start to say no, but then a yawn forces its way out of my mouth. "I suppose that answers it for you," I say sheepishly. Then, I look around, and see Hope, but no Jessie. "Is Jessie still asleep?"

Before mom can say anything, Hope says, "She's awake, definitely."

"Not again . . ." mom trails off before half-rushing to the bedroom.

Mom apparently doesn't feel very creative today, a slice of what I believe is pork, a bit of a block of cheese mom saved up to buy a week or so ago, and then, of course, tessare grain.

At least it's something. I grab a spoon from the pantry and eat, trying to ignore the taste of the bland tessare. How quickly one plate disappears in 12, tessare or no tessare.

When I put my plate away, I see mom half-dragging out a limp and sobbing Jessie, spewing forth more than I thought possible on scenarios where she gets reaped even though her name's in only once.

I quickly move to the living room, and sigh.

* * *

 **Luna Linwood, 16**

 **District 12 Female**

* * *

I check the food stores habitually, even though I know there's going to be enough for a week. Once I do that, I feel someone tugging me gently, and I turn to see Astra.

"Good morning, sis."

"Luna, how do you handle it?"

"Handle what?"

"The Reaping . . ."

"Look, it's ok to get scared. This is a time where it's natural. But don't lose yourself in fear. Just remember, the chance is really small. You can get your Reaping clothes ready now," I say, consolingly.

Astra gives a small smile, before heading to our shared room. I've already gotten my stuff prearranged, so I just head outside like I did yesterday.

And, like yesterday, I find myself walking towards the Seam. The mood today, though, is different than yesterday, with the district slightly subdued, no doubt because the Reaping is tomorrow.

I decide to go to Tate's house, because, sometimes, I connect to her emotionally better. I turn down the winding roads which are paved in the stores' area but gradually decay with the transition to the Seam, to the point that the road is really unpaved rocks. The Peacekeepers, I think, like being in the stores' area and take more care of that area. Of course, that also means that the stores' area is more strict than the Seam, where Peacekeepers generally avoid. Both Tate and Lily tell me that they see crime more than they'd like.

As I'm walking, I realize that it's lunchtime, because the sun is near its highest point, and it would be better not to disturb anyone during a meal. So I find a descent place to sit without it looking like I'm soliciting, take out the wrapped food, and eat, planning to visit Tate when it's not mealtime.

* * *

 **Rayne Cannley, 13**

 **District 12 Male**

* * *

With the combined efforts of Mom, Hope, and I, we finally managed to get Jessie to calm down, although she's still clearly scared. Jessie eats her lunch, while I try to relax from some tense moments.

Hope says she needs a nap, and, frankly, I don't blame her, she shares a room with Jessie, so no telling if she got enough sleep.

After Jessie finishes eating, she just quietly sits in her chair.

I pull mom aside, and ask, "Was I this bad?"

Mom looks at me quizzically, "No, definitely not. I mean, you were a bit scared, but Jessie is . . . I don't know."

"I think she's just a victim of the Capitol."

"Rayne! Don't talk about your sister that way."

"But isn't that what the Capitol wants? For us to be scared?"

"The Games, they're supposed to stop rebellion. You've seen the video, right?"

"I suppose, but it . . . never mind," I say, losing my train of thought.

With Jessie doing nothing and Hope sleeping, I grab a deck of cards and play Solitare with myself.

"Jessie, come on, can you do something?" I ask, after a round.

She sighs, but she comes over, which is progress, I suppose. I get the second deck, and hand it over.

* * *

 **Luna Linwood, 16**

 **District 12 Female**

* * *

I knock, and after a few seconds, Tate's mother opens the door. "Luna, right?"

I nod, "Is Tate available?"

"She should be almost done getting ready for tomorrow," she replies, "hold on. Come in, by the way."

While I wait, I just quietly observe. The house is nicely kept, as always, and, although small, like most hardworking families in the Seam, it's nice.

I hear a bit of bustling around the corner, and then, out pops Tate.

"Hi, Tate, your hair is all crazy," I point out immediately, "what did you do?"

"Everything, literally everything!" Tate exclaims, going back, presumably to get a hairbrush, comes back, and starts getting her hair back in order.

"Wasn't yesterday fun?" I ask, "I mean, at Lily's house."

"Well, yeah, I mean, we played some games, oh, I really liked the one where you act out a word, I don't remember what it was called, but that was fun. But then, everything was fun."

"Yeah, it was funny how we both ended up at Lily's house at the same time. Do you want to play that acting game?"

"Sure, why not?"

Tate seems to pick something up, and put it somewhere, and then makes a waiting gesture. "Cook?" I immediately guess, because I seem to remember something similar from yesterday.

Tate nods, then I start thinking for my turn.

* * *

 **Rayne Cannley, 13**

 **District 12 Male**

* * *

"Rayne, stop being too fast!" Jessie says.

"Why aren't you complaining about me, I feel left out," Hope interjects, adding three more cards to the middle foundations.

I realize that Hope's last move just allowed me to play a short combo for two cards of my own. I flip through my cards, and get one more card by a bit of rearranging, but before anything else, Hope plays her last card after Jessie played two cards of her own.

"Same thing I told Rayne, yesterday, I think, you gotta watch what everyone else has," Hope tells Jessie, who just shakes her head, but she's smiling, which is good.

We sort out the cards, and clear the table for dinner. Dad should be home by now, he's going to be in early today, because it's the day before the Reaping, they let the workers out early.

Right as mom gives everyone their portions, dad comes in, mining gear and all. Mom smiles, walks over, and hugs dad, before getting his plate ready. Dad takes off his mining suit and goes to the bathroom to wash up a bit.

"Feeling better, Jessie?" dad asks when he comes out.

"I think so. I played Solitare with Rayne and Hope for a bit," Jessie says, blushing slightly.

Dad sits down and starts eating. "Ready for tomorrow?" he asks.

"I am," Hope says immediately, and after a second, I follow. Jessie has to takes several breaths before affirming.

I finish my food, thank mom, and put my plate away. I debate staying up to 'prolong' the time between me and the Reaping, but I eventually come to the conclusion that the Reaping will happen no matter what, I might as well just go now. It's late in the day anyway, at 4:00 PM.

I say good night, and head up to bed.

* * *

 **Luna Linwood, 16**

 **District 12 Female**

* * *

It's here. The Reaping. Deep breath. Count to 10.

I exit my room for breakfast. Astra's already there eating, in fact, my entire family is already eating, despite me getting up even a little earlier than usual. The clock says 7:47. AM of course.

Frankly, though, I'm not focused on the food, my mind is wandering slightly. Even though this is my fifth time, it feels somewhat the same every time. The clock seems to be ticking faster than normal, and then the thought of my name in 25 times scares my slightly, but I try to push the thought away. I finish whatever's on my plate quickly and put it away.

My entire family's done before me, and I get the feeling that everyone watched me put my plate away. I awkwardly sit back down.

"Uh . . . what's everyone doing here?" dad asks, trying to break the awkwardness. No one responds.

"You know what? Astra, Luna, go get ready for the Reaping," mom suggests. With nothing better to do, Astra and I head up to our room.

Our Reaping clothes are really just nice clothes that aren't dirty. I have a lavender-color knee-length dress that's a bit large, but does fit nevertheless.

Astra has one of my old dresses, a red-orange dress that drops to her ankles, with some complimentary glitter-like stuff along the sleeves and the bottom-half of the skirt.

"You look nice in that," I tell Astra.

"Thanks, you're not bad either," she says, blushing slightly.

"Don't be so uptight, we'll be fine."

* * *

 **Rayne Cannley, 13**

 **District 12 Male**

* * *

"You want to watch Reaping coverage?" Hope half-yells from the living room, directed at Jessie and I. My mind says no automatically, but I have nothing else to do, I sit go into the living room, where the TV is, and sit on the floor.

The districts start flying. 1 and 2, as usual, produce older and stronger volunteer Career tributes. District 3 at least has a girl who seems athletic. 4 is like 1 and 2, and from there there's just mostly tears and heartbreak.

After District 4, mom gives us a quick lunch before the real District 5 Reapings start, so we won't miss anything except for 11, and possibly part of 10 too, as we might need the time.

Once District 6 ends, mom shoos all three of us siblings into our rooms to change into Reaping clothes. For most boys, it's just a black or gray suit with matching color pants. I happen to have a gray set.

Changing doesn't take that long, and soon, the three of us are watching again on 7, and their girl is similar to 3's girl; they both seem strong and athletic. But my interest starts to fade as our own Reaping draws near.

Before I know it, mom's saying we have to go, so the entire family heads for the door, and slips outside, taking the maybe half-mile walk to the Square.

When we get to the Square, there are already many people, most probably anxious just to get home. I hug my parents, and then I join the line of people waiting to be checked in.

When the three of us are checked in, I hug my sisters, and whisper some encouraging words to Jessie, who seems ready to break down again, and then head to my own section.

I feel a tap on my shoulder standing in my section, so I turn around, and see Marie.

"Hey, Marie. Reaping's going to start, what are you doing here?"

"Just wanted to wish you good luck," Marie says. Then she goes back to her own section.

* * *

 **Luna Linwood, 16**

 **District 12 Female**

* * *

I see our District escort, Ammon, come up, and start our Reaping. I try to see closer to the front, but I can't find my sister, and I have the feeling that I shouldn't look behind me. I don't know.

I lose attention to Ammon, given that it's the same thing every year, every _district_. The same speech. The same video. The list of victors, of which we have five, two of which are already dead. Interestingly enough, the three victors are all in the same family, mother, father, and daughter, and they're probably the most famous family in 12, the Mellark's.

But, finally, Ammon, who's escorted 12 for as long as I can remember now, goes over to the girls' ball.

 _It's going to be ok,_ I try to tell my sister mentally, _you're going to be fine._

And when the name is read, I realize that my sister is fine.

The only issue is that I'm not.

* * *

 **Rayne Cannley, 13**

 **District 12 Male**

* * *

I have to look up and down before I see a surprisingly calm girl from the 16 year old section step out, and walks to the stage. It's impressive how she can maintain her composure like that in probably the single-most terrifying moment of her life so far.

She stands there, looking pretty good for someone who got reaped, compared to last year's girl, who let tears fall openly.

The good thing is that Jessie must be very relieved and out of her terrified state of mind now. Hope made it another year, this time in 24 times. And Marie's made it through, as well.

Ammon gives a few seconds, then moves on to the boys' bowl, two of which my name is in.

Ammon is quick this time, and he just ruffles the names a bit before selecting one. I draw in a breath, and wait for the name.

But then, I hear Ammon say, "Rayne Cannley!"

* * *

 **Johnathan Wilford**

 **Head Gamemaker**

* * *

I see a boy come out from the 13 year old section, but he's moving very slowly, at least twice as slow as the girl, and the boy ends up being pushed by the Peacekeepers to get him to hurry up. Then, Ammon presents the two tributes, and then the Reaping wraps up.

I'm slightly surprised by the girl from 12, she seems like she better fit than the other girls from her district. She doesn't seem powerful, though, but she could get better odds than others. Nothing else of note, though.

The boy also seems normal, nothing really special of him, and his age will not help him with his odds.

I sigh, writing down my notes. I then start to work out their odds and chances, remembering to drop the odds for the boy from 6, Jackson.

After about 30 minutes, I have the odds ready. I pick up the phone, and speed-dial Snow.

"Who is this?"

"Wilford."

"Ah, do you have the odds ready?"

"Yes sir, and I thought I should tell you that the odds for Jackson, the male from District 6, will be tampered, because I sensed rebellion in him."

"Very good, Wilford. I agree with you completely. Is that all?"

"Yes sir, that is all, everyone else's scores are not tampered."

"Thank you, Wilford," the President says, before he hangs up.

I adjust my suit, and get ready to announce the odds.

* * *

 **Luna Linwood, 16**

 **District 12 Female**

* * *

I manage to hold my emotions in, even when I see mom, dad, Astra, thank goodness, none of them are openly crying too, they wear more of a solemn look.

Astra, though, sits next to me and hugs me. "Are you scared?" she asks in my ear.

The question's answer is so obvious, actually, that I feel a bit of laughter sprouting in me. "Yeah, I am," I say, before being subdued by silence and sadness.

"Remember your own advice," Astra says.

"What?"

"It's ok to get scared, it's natural, but don't lose yourself. You've been out there before."

Oddly enough, my hopes start rising at my sister's words. I hug Astra. "Thanks, sis."

Then, dad says, comfortingly, "We don't expect you to win against all those people. But, please, take the advice of your mentor, and take advantage of training, and try."

The fact that I'm not going to be pressured to win also comforts me, but I do want to return to my family.

All too soon, my family is gone, and sadness crashes over me again. Even Lily and Tate cannot comfort me. All I manage to choke out is that they were my best friends. They don't have words, and soon, their time is gone too, and I can't think of anyone else who would want to see me.

* * *

 **Rayne Cannley, 13**

 **District 12 Male**

* * *

 _I was only in there twice!_ My mind keeps on saying.

How am I going to do this?

I can't think straight. My mind is running in circles. Even when my family comes in, I can't stop the circle of panic. Jessie looks like how she was at home, while Hope seems sad and disappointed, probably because she tried to protect me, but in the end, I'm still here.

Just the thought of sharp objects hitting my skin makes me want to throw up.

I can't do anything, I don't think I can form words, so I just hug all my family, one by one. They say something, but I can't hear them.

I start to cry when my family leaves. I don't care about the cameras. I can't control my emotions anymore, so I don't try.

I missed my chance to hear my family's last words! The thought just makes me cry harder.

Then I notice that there's something on the seat next to me, and I wipe my eyes to see clearer.

It's the family picture taken at the last day of school a month ago, in a picture frame that mom found somewhere. It's small enough to fit in my pocket, so I take it as my token.

The only person left who would see me is Marie, and sure enough, she comes in after a minute.

I can't hear her either, because I'm racked with sobs. I just show her the picture. I hug Marie, still crying, when I feel something odd, and I turn, and realize that Marie just kissed me on the cheek. She then hugs me again, before I see her no more.

I still cry, because I'm going into the games, but I have hope from family, and my only friend.

* * *

 **Guess what? All the districts are done! The next chapter _will not_ be trains, instead, I came up with this idea which I have been hinting at in several chapters, and that's the announcement of the odds for all the tributes. It's probably going to be shorter than these Reaping chapters, but I thought that would be nice. Also, I might throw in something extra in there. You guys will have to wait and see. :)**

 **One more thing before the questions. My submission for Luna ended up being eerily like Katniss, in that the girl was sixteen and had a 12 year old sister, so I tried to make it a bit different, because inevitably when writing 12 you're influenced by the Hunger Games series and whatnot. So, yeah.**

 _ **Will Luna's experience in the wild help her, even though she's never actually used weapons? How will Rayne manage his stress and relationships? How will both of them do with their mentors (Katniss and Peeta)?**_


	14. Reaping Recap & Pre-Parade Odds

**Hey guys! I hope you've been excited for this chapter! As I said, this will be the Pre-Parade Odds, plus a bit of something else. Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Thracius Ruus**

 **Hunger Games Commentator**

* * *

"Water?"

"Here you go," my commentator partner, Menenius, says, handing a bottle of water to me.

I drink, satisfying my parched throat. Talking energetically for six hours is hard. And in a little bit, the full Reaping recap will start. At least it's only 20-30 minutes, depending on what the video editors do, and what there is to say.

I get up, and stretch a bit.

"Thraciius, Menenius, get ready!" I hear. The recap is starting soon.

I slide into the booth, and take my seat. Menenius takes the seat next to me.

"Cue Capitol Anthem, short! You're on in 3, 2, 1 . . ."

I take an inaudible but deep breath, and then begin.

"Hello to all of Panem, this is the recap of the 113th Hunger Games Reapings! We have a new field of 24 tributes to cover, so let's get started."

"For those who don't already know," Menenius starts, "the Hunger Games is a free-for-all last person standing game. Two tributes, one boy, and one girl, from each district, are selected by a process known as the Reaping. These tributes must fight to the death. That should get you all caught up, and if you're still confused, you'll catch on quickly."

"Let us get started, shall we? Looking at the field itself, the first thing I see is that _there are no 12 year olds_ this year, which might make the games ever so slightly more even."

A helpful statistic pops up on the screen in front of us, and Menenius reads it, "The last game that did not feature at least one 12 year old was all the way back in the 101st Games, a good 12 years ago, ironically. Now, it's true that 12 year olds have the least chance of being reaped, but usually the odds tip for some kid out there."

"Then, there are three disabilities that I believe are worth mentioning," I add, "first, Friska Heathrow, the girl from District 8, she seems to suffer from a syndrome known as Attention-Deficit / Hyperactivity Disorder, ADHD for short." The video crew is smart, and quickly switches to the District 8 reel. "Her hyperactivity shows even at the Reaping, as I'm sure you notice, Menenius."

"I sure did, if I didn't know any better, I'd say she was a Career who was excited to be up there."

"Next, we have the District 7 girl, Axlynn Birch. Look at the way she walks to the stage. More specifically, her gait. She seems to favor her left foot over her right foot, as you can see, her strides are longer with her left, and she's taking shorter ones with her right."

"Looks like a rolled ankle or something," Menenius contributes, "but it should be good by the time the Games start."

"Now, there's one more disability that should be mentioned. The next district, District 9, produced a girl who looks normal at first." On cue, the video switches to the District 9 replay. "If you look closely, you can see that she's holding her hand at a slight angle . . . right there! Also, look at how she stands. She's not standing straight, she has a slight hunch."

"Indeed, Thracius, I'd guess she has a stomach injury of some sort. The doctors should be able to fix whatever's wrong with her, though, so she should be fine before the Games start."

"Now, let's take a look at the Career alliance," I add. "First off, all the tributes from 1, 2, and 4, are 17 or 18. Expect them to be strong, and already familiar with some weapons. There's especially one tribute even the Careers should watch out for, and that's Adelyn-Jade Charme. She has _three_ relatives who are Hunger Games victors, and they've yet to lose one in them. She's going to be especially prepared, not to mean that the others aren't prepared as well. Menenius, what do you think of the chemistry between these six tributes?"

"As you mentioned before, the other careers are going to be wary of Adelyn, but other than that, this should be typical Career chemistry, and they'll break, maybe about halfway through the tributes."

"There's one more very interesting alliance I have to bring up. The tributes from three, Binary Blink, and Gene Riemann. One of our Capitol investigators managed to get to 3 to figure out what was going on between them. Their last names clearly indicate that they aren't related, at least not immediately. According to our investigator, it turns out that Binary Blink was an orphan until two days before the Reaping, where he was then adopted by Gene's family."

Another statistic pops up on the screen, courtesy of the hard-working statisticians. As usual, Menenius reads it, "The last time two siblings, or in this case, adopted sibling, occurred in the 86th Hunger Games, but they volunteered, the last time two siblings were _reaped_ together was the 47th Hunger Games, really, really long ago. So expect something interesting from the two."

"Now, let's move on to District 10," I continue, "where something interesting happened during the Reaping. More specifically, the District 10 boy, Juno Taurus. Watch this footage carefully," I say, the video cutting to him being reaped.

"You'll see, about right there," Menenius says, "something falls out of his pocket. The picture isn't very clear since there's people all around, but, even then, it's clearly a book, although the title's partially obscured. However, if we move a few seconds later, as Juno puts the book back into his pocket, you can see just a few frames where you can see the title, _100 Years of Hunger Games_. It could be a big advantage for him, but of course, he will not be allowed to bring it into the arena, but reading beforehand is fair game."

"And look at Juno's confidence, by the way," I segue, "he has some cracks, but for the most part, he holds together nicely, and he seems fairly confident."

"Now, we'll go back to 7, ignoring Axlynn's injury, and just look at the two of them. They're both really fit, which isn't uncommon for tributes from 7. Axlynn volunteers, although her volunteer seems to be one of desperation, not like the careers when they volunteer. Most likely, the person she volunteered for, Aspen Oaklee, was a friend of hers, as they don't look related."

"On the other hand," I say, "Donovan is already doing everything right for the audience. Remember Juno? Donovan beats him easily in this department. He smiles, waves, and wears a smile through the entire thing. He's going to be interesting to watch."

A note pops up on the screen, and we note that we only have two minutes, so we only have time to talk about one or two more tributes. But Menenius already continues on. "We don't have much time left, but there's still one more tribute that should be noted, from District 11. Iris Thorn is unlike most of the tributes from 11. She's still fit, but she happens to be one of the daughters of the mayor of District 11, so she has probably gotten to eat more back in 11."

"And you can see the mayor's shock on his face when Iris gets reaped. But, that's the Games for you," I end.

"We're out of time, but stay tuned, next is the Pre-Parade odds!"

* * *

 **Johnathan Wilford**

 **Head Gamemaker**

* * *

 _"2 minutes!"_ I hear.

I make a final scan of my notes, and prepare myself. I grab a bottle of water, and drink. I'll need it to announce, even if it's only going to last 5 minutes at most.

I sit down, feeling as ready as I can be, and just wait the time off the clock.

 _"30 seconds, take your positions!"_

The microphone is in front of me, and I have my clipboard with all the notes and scores. Standing, I walk over, and get ready.

 _"10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4 . . ."_ They leave the final few seconds off, so the countdown is not captured and broadcasted. That, frankly, would be weird.

The broadcast light turns on.

"Hello, Panem. These are the Pre-Parade odds for the 113th Hunger Games!"

I give a small pause before continuing.

"Veneer Walsh, District 1 Male, with odds of 5:61.

"Adelyn Charme, District 1 Female, with odds of 1:11.

"Clark Benton, District 2 Male, with odds of 1:11.

"Clarisse O'Hare, District 2 Female, with odds of 3:41.

"Binary Blink, District 3 Male, with odds of 5:127.

"Gene Riemann, District 3 Female, with odds of 1:21.

"Saipan Blackford, District 4 Male, with odds of 5:61.

"Valentine Cliffe, District 4 Female, with odds of 3:41.

"Jasper Voltize, District 5 Male, with odds of 5:127.

"Pavona McCalistair, District 5 Female, with odds of 1:43.

"Jackson Valley, District 6 Male, with odds of 1:65.

"Savera Ford, District 6 Female, with odds of 1:43.

"Donovan Berkley, District 7 Male, with odds of 7:125.

"Axlynn Birch, District 7 Female, with odds of 1:21.

"Toby Amador, District 8 Male, with odds of 1:43.

"Friska Heathrow, District 8 Female, with odds of 5:127.

"Samuel Halifax, District 9 Male, with odds of 1:43.

"Tarragon Daen, District 9 Female, with odds of 1:43.

"Juno Taurus, District 10 Male, with odds of 5:127.

"Elizabella Lovelock, District 10 Female, with odds of 1:43.

"Grer Cunningham, District 11 Male, with odds of 1:32.

"Iris Thorn, District 11 Female, with odds of 1:65.

"Rayne Cannley, District 12 Male, with odds of 1:43.

"Luna Linwood, District 12 Female, with odds of 1:32."

I close, and the light turns off.

I grab another drink of water, and then exit the stage. I've been doing Games stuff for maybe 7 hours now. I need a nap, but I need to make sure to catch the Parade, too.

* * *

 **Here's a short chapter containing an idea I came up with, a Games recap, and then the Pre-Parade odds, neither of which I've seen in other SYOT's, so I thought that this would be cool. I initially had a third idea of having a District 13 citizen POV for someone who feels for the districts but doesn't need to worry about it themselves, but then, I decided against it.**

 **For those wondering, how I wrote up the odds is I distributed 132 'points' to the tributes and then calculated the odds by the way I distributed the points, based on a number of factors and how I feel the tributes would actually do. If you don't like the odds formatting, I will have the odds written as percentages on my profile, so if you don't like this, it will be there, but this is how odds actually work. Odds are written as a win:loss, so a coin has 1:1 heads to tails odds, for every heads, there's one tails. So a tribute with 1:131 odds will theoretically, win 1 time for every 131 losses.**

 **Next up is the Trains! I'm going to do this differently, I want to give all tributes a Train POV. You'll see how it'll be done when I post that chapter. :)**

 _ **Do you think I overrated / underrated some tributes? If so, who did I overchange or shortchange? How was the recap, did the cover most of the major events, or were there any I missed? Right now, who do you think will win the Games?**_


	15. The Trains: Districts 1 & 2

**Here's the first Trains chapter! As you can see, I'm going to be taking them four districts at a time, instead of doing one or two at a time. Have fun!**

* * *

 **Adelyn-Jade 'Addi' Charme, 17**

 **District 1 Female**

* * *

Even though I have three victors in my family, I've never seen this much food in my life.

I will not have time to eat it all. District 1 is practically next door to the capitol, so we're only in the train for an hour or so. So, I delicately take a slice of cheesecake, and eat it.

Our escort, Carinella, is enjoying the District 3 Reapings, going on now. We missed 2, with all the goodbyes and all, so we'll have to wait to meet them at the Capitol.

I glance at Veneer. He's tall, maybe around 6 feet, and strong, no surprise. His dad is also a trainer at the Academy, so Veneer's going to be good.

I can't recall anything specifically about Veneer, though, right now.

All of a sudden, I realize that Veneer's noticed me scrutinize him. I try to look away quickly, but he's already caught on. "Analyzing me, already?"

I sigh. "I need all the advantages I can get."

To my surprise, Veneer doesn't take this as aggression, and then does something I'm completely not expecting. "Alright, for the better of the alliance, I'll say that I'm best with long-range weapons, like bows and arrows, or spears, although I can manage close combat, assuming a spear."

I'm caught off-guard, and in the awkwardness, I'm almost forced to spill my beans too. "Axes and maces. I think I prefer axes though."

Did he calculate his response to learn of my strengths? Because my choice of weapons, especially maces, aren't always found, but bows and arrows are easy life in the arena, so I can't possibly prevent him from getting his choice of weapon, but he could somehow prevent me.

I stare into him more, and slowly come to the conclusion that he's going to try to pick out my weaknesses soon. But that won't happen, oh no. I'll have to put up with him for the first few days, but when this breaks, guess who's going to go first?

With that out of the way, I enjoy the luxury of the train, and become excited for the luxury of the Capitol, and the week to come, and then, winning. Because I will win. I will continue the legacy of the family. I start to feel the rush of excitement.

* * *

 **Veneer Walsh, 18**

 **District 1 Male**

* * *

Did I play that right?

Maybe I broke some ground, which is what I wanted, maybe I made an enemy. Addi was a bit scary, though, staring me down. She seems more of the calculating type, however, she doesn't seem to know me very well, probably caught up in her own training.

On the other hand, it's not like the Charme's aren't well known. Addi's endurance isn't that great, although if she rests first, she can be fast. She can focus on her looks a bit too much as well.

Knowing all that, it might have been worth it to share my skills when I already knew hers, considering I already know this much, if only to remove her seriousness for a bit. I don't know.

The mountain of food sitting on the table becomes irresistible, but I have enough sense to keep my manners. I take a plate and load it. Bacon and a whole bunch of deserts probably isn't the best meal, but I might as well. A few extra calories won't hurt in the arena, just in case we somehow lose our food stores early. Although I do hope that's not the case.

Carinella stops watching for a bit, and turns around to properly talk to us. "So, you're Adelyn, and you are Veneer, correct?"

We both nod our heads. "Well, I'm your escort, if you don't know already. I'll be mostly hands-off, as you'll mainly be working with your mentors, but I'll still be here. I love your district, it's so much like District 1, so I'm also cheering for you two as well."

Just then, the train goes dark, and I know enough to know that we're in the a tunnel, on the way to the Capitol.

When the train lightens, Carinella continues, "Would you like to know who the District 3 and 4 tributes are?"

I shrug, implying approval, and Addi says, "Why not? It won't hurt. And District 4's usually with us, so it'd be nice."

"If you're so interested about 4," Carinella responds, "I'll say that I think they would make great allies. They're both volunteers and seem trained for this."

"Their names?" I grunt.

"Uh . . . Valentine and Saipan, I think."

"Who's the boy," Adelyn says in a joking fashion.

"Saipan," Carinella says, frowning.

We feel the train stop. It's time. Some districts have not even had their Reaping yet, but that's fine. It just means that we get more time with our stylists and whatnot.

I step out into the world of the Games.

* * *

 **Clarisse O'Hare, 18**

 **District 2 Female**

* * *

District 2 is practically next-door to the Capitol; the train ride is barely enough to do _anything._

Heck, when we got on the train, the Reapings of 4 were just starting, and by the time we're off the train, it's only part-way through 5.

I'm expecting to head straight to preparation for the parade, but instead, we're directed to meet with District 1. Apparently, it's usual for us to meet beforehand, since we're usually the first tributes to get to the Capitol, and the stylists say that they don't need too much time.

Since their reaping was ahead of ours, they, naturally, are the first ones to be there. Amon, our escort, already told us their names, but I ask out of politeness.

"Addi Charme, he's Veneer," Adelyn says.

"Walsh," Veneer adds to that.

"I'm Clarisse O'Hare."

"Clark Benton," my partner says.

After the mild introductions, we just observe one another for a bit.

I already looked at Clark briefly, he's strong and skilled, no doubt. I recognize the Charme name from a few years back, so Addi's probably real good. Veneer doesn't have anything _special_ , but he's definitely a Career. Looking a bit closer, it seems that Addi's being a bit cold to Veneer, maybe something happened to the two of them. Oh well.

The silence gets too long, so I break it with asking, "Alliance?" No doubt we all had this in mind, but I want to formalize it. The other three quickly consent.

Once it's formalized, Amon takes Clark and I to our teams. The Capitol provides us with same-gender teams, so at least, I don't need to worry about some guy staring at my privates.

As I meet my team, I can't help but wonder what I'll be dressed in. Maybe the typical Roman gear? That's a bit overused, but it's completely possible, or something - OW!

Of my team of three, Dacia pulls something from my leg, a piece of cloth, right where the pain came from. Out of instinct, I try to jump up, only to fall back on my seat.

"Stay calm!" Tevva says, "we're only _beautifying_ you."

"What does that mean?" I ask, while at the same time realizing that they sort of harnessed my torso when I wasn't paying attention, which would explain why I didn't just leap out of my seat.

"It means," Dacia says, "we're removing your body hair. The people like that." The second similar pain sensation shoots through my left leg, but I force myself to stay. I don't need to show weakness. Not towards petty pain like this.

* * *

 **Clark Benton, 17**

 **District 2 Male**

* * *

"I think that's all we can do right now, it's time for your costume and your stylist," Sonus pipes. Then, they rush out, altogether.

They're certainly energetic, if not odd. Maybe that's the general idea of the Capitol people? Amon is sort of like this too.

There's a robe-type thing on the chair. Assuming it's for me, and preferring the idea of being clothed, I slip it on.

My skin feels tingly and weird, but I assume I'll get used to it. Hey, and it will win sponsors, hopefully, right?

I hear the door open, and in walks a person, who I assume is my stylist.

"Hello, Clark. I'm your stylist. My name is Trintus. I've already picked out a costume, but I just need to doublecheck some things."

He starts to check my muscles, and whatever, I don't know. He's being a bit conservative with touching, which I appreciate, but in a minute, he takes a step backwards. I think his face is smiling slightly.

"The measurements were _exactly_ right. The costumes should, theoretically, fit you perfectly."

" _What_ measurements?" I ask curiously.

"After the reaping, our scientists managed to produce a 3-D image of you based on the images we had, so we could measure various aspects of you without you needing to be physically present. According to it, you have (not surprisingly) a high muscle mass, are 5'8", and etcetera. Sometimes, something goes wrong and you won't fit the costume, but the measurements this year seem to be correct, so you should have no problem with the costume. We have machines on standby, in case. But, we won't need them."

"Well, what _is_ the costume?"

"Did you hear me say, costume _s_?"

"There's more than one?"

"Whatever you think _you_ look best in, I'm letting you make the call."

"Well, let's take a look, but _where_ are the costumes? I don't see any."

"Course you don't, I haven't brought them in yet. Hold on," Trintus tells me, then he bounds into another room.

In a minute, a cart is wheeled in, displaying five costumes, and while there has obviously been great effort put into all of them, one stands out to me and I know what I'm going to wear.

* * *

 **Hehe, didn't feel like spoiling what the costume is. You'll just have to wait. I'm doing EVERYONE's POV for the trains, instead of choosing one person and possibly being subject to being accused of gender bias. Anyway, everyone's awesome, right? :) District 3 and 4 are next, obviously. I initially intended to do four/train chapter, but with school, updates would take too long, and you guys love updates, right?**

 _ **How is the career pack looking so far? How long do you think they'll stay together? Is Addi going to make more enemies with the career pack, or will she try to amend? Is her**_ **name** ** _too dangerous for some?_** _ **What costume do you think Clark will end up with? Hint: It's not a Roman style one. Is anyone in general not too trusting of the others yet?**_


	16. The Trains: Districts 3 & 4

**Here's District 3 and 4. Soooo sorry this took over three months. More details at the end.**

* * *

 **Gene Riemann, 16**

 **District 3 Female**

* * *

I collapse on a couch as soon as I find my way into the train, completely spent. For a moment, I want to forget the person across from me, but I know I'll have to pay attention to him at some point. But thinking about both of us in the arena hurts badly.

I feel the train start to speed up, on its journey to the Capitol. I look out the window and see the familiar disappear into oblivion. A few tears escape my eyes, but it doesn't matter as of yet.

I hear a door open, and two people walk in, Del and Klea. Great. Well, only sarcastically to Klea. Del might actually be helpful.

I bring myself to turn from the window to the depressing sight before me, and sniffle. Binary's holding up really well, managing a mournful look without tears.

"Gene?" Del asks. I shift my focus from my pseudo-brother to Del.

"I need to know some things that I hope you can provide," Del continues. "First, do you know your fitness scores?"

My fitness scores? That was all one day ago! My mind struggles to remember, and tears threaten me once more.

"103 pushups and a time of 6:11," Binary's voice says, suddenly. I turn quickly, the numbers being extremely familiar.

"How did you know? I don't remember saying it to you."

"In the various conversations we had," Binary says, still looking, and even sounding mournful, "you said the goals you set were crushed. There was a sheet of paper that had those goals. You also mentioned yourself that you were just over 370 seconds, but made it over 100 pushups, and then 'did three more for the record', putting you at 103. Theoretically, I don't know your exact mile-run time, but 'just over' makes me guess 6:11."

I forget about the games for a moment and just stare at Binary. When I finally stop, however, I notice that Del seems to be only marginally surprised. I look slightly questioning at her, and she just says, "What? I remember he was one of the kids who got straight A's. It's just logic."

I sigh. Binary's just that person. I'm not.

"If you're discouraged, I don't know why you are. This is an arena for the athletic, although I assume you two will work together," Del comments, to which both Binary and I immediately nod our heads.

* * *

 **Binary Blink, 14**

 **District 3 Male**

* * *

Why does Gene look so amazed? I swear I told her about myself. She shouldn't be. And even if, I don't know what intelligence will gain in there. I remember being told to stay hidden, but I don't know what Del has in mind.

I check my emotions, and while they're high, my tolerance is high too, and I just hold. Not like I've experienced heartbreak like this before. Well, perhaps not as strong, but still.

Del seems to think for a while before saying, "It's an interesting situation here. You're athletic," obviously not referring to me, "and you're smart. It's a good combination, if not smarts are not terribly valued in the arena. Still, most of our victors were smart . . ."

Del's obviously trying to say this only to encourage me. It's the classic case of correlation does not prove causation. What about all the other smart tributes who've died? However, I don't mention this, and try not to think about it.

After an awkward moment of silence, Del then says, "But we'll save the logistical issue for later. Right now, the parade. Usually, friendship in the Parade is frowned upon, but I believe we can make an exception for you two, after all, you two are siblings . . . sort of . . . never mind, but we'll see what the stylists end up doing.

"Well, there's going to be more discussion, but for now, that's all."

I sigh. Gene and I. In the arena. Where only one is allowed to come out.

"Gene, I think I want some rest," I say, getting up. "I think I know where the beds are. If not, I can just find them."

Gene doesn't say anything, but just nods her head, and then goes back to staring out the window. I think she's still crying slightly.

I sigh, and change my mind. I walk over and sit next to her. This seems to help her somewhat, and I don't mind doing this, really. I don't really care what I do over the next week; someone will guide me, although, I suppose I should be planning. But even with my experience with sadness and heartbreak, somehow I just know it won't work, at least not right now.

I start to wonder where Klea is, but then drop it. It's not important. Especially not when the train goes dark, indicating that we've entered the Capitol.

* * *

 **Valentine Cliffe, 18**

 **District 4 Female**

* * *

The sight of the Capitol fills my eyes. Even though I've seen shots on TV, they obviously pale to the sight I see right now.

As the train rattles towards the station, I find myself practicing some of my more advanced moves with a trident, not necessarily to impress Saipan or Verita, as a matter of fact, I don't need to impress Saipan, as he'll get to know my strengths later, and there's not much use in showing off to Verita. However, I hope this gives Naomi, the District 4 mentor this year, to see my skills. However, she seems to wave it off as a typical sight, which is slightly enraging, but I keep it to myself. I suppose a trident is rather typical anyway.

Before we get off the train, Verita reminds us, "Districts 1 and 2 have already met, as they were the first ones here. Since we come in later, you'll have to do your greetings either right before the parade, right after the parade, or on the first day of training. Personally, I think there isn't much time to do it at the parade, and it doesn't hurt to wait some. However, I don't really care much for when, as long as you do. Both of you did train for this, I assume?"

I give an audible affirmation while Saipan just nods.

"Well then, once you go in, you'll be directed to your stylists and prepared for the parade."

Saipan, Verita, and I get off the train and are led into the building which I assume is the Training Building, and after a few flights down and and unknown amount of turns I arrive at the room where the stylists will meet me.

I sit down on the chair prominently sitting in the middle of the room. After a few minutes, I frown. Where's my prep team?

The answer comes nearly half an hour later. Three women nearly collapse _into_ the room, and I give them a questioning look.

"We made a wrong turn . . . _somewhere_ ," one of the three says. "It took a while to retrace ourselves."

"Really?" I say, "There are people everywhere to help guide you."

"That doesn't matter, we're independent people here," the same woman says, to which I mentally facepalm. "At any rate, we should get you ready for the parade now. We've lost over half an hour, so we should speed things up. I'm Gaia, the other two are Theta and Euphoria."

"We're going to try something different than usual for you," one of the other two women says - Gaia never made it clear who was who - "instead of making you as beautiful as possible, which the by-the-book response would be to remove all your hair and apply makeup, we're going to try to do with natural beauty, as we think, for you, it's possible to do."

Well, this is going to be interesting.

* * *

 **Saipan Blackford, 18**

 **District 4 Male**

* * *

As I head to the main floor in preparation for the parade, I can't help but note how well, at least, in my opinion, my outfit suits me. The costume reminds me of coral, and the headpiece of shells. The costume doesn't restrict movement, which is nice for getting to the main floor, but otherwise mostly useless.

I'm shown where our horse and chariot is, but after that, all the preparation is done and there's nothing that has to be done before the parade.

As I look around, I note that the later districts haven't shown up yet, probably because in general, they take more time to arrive at the capitol. I glance at where the chariots for Districts 1 and 2 are, and indeed, they're ready to go.

 _Better now than later, I suppose_ , I think, and decide to meet up with them in the roughly half-hour before the parade. Now I'm glad I paid attention to the replays for the reapings, because then I know their names.

I walk up to them. Fortunately, they seem to have been keeping an eye on the chariot from 4, as they stop what they're doing to greet us.

"You've finally shown up, huh? You're Saipan, right?" The boy from 1, Veneer, asks, while chuckling. I sigh - I've been made fun of my name enough to not react much to it.

"Yeah. Valentine hasn't shown up yet," I say, glancing at our chariot.

"Really?"

I jump, and nearly collide with the girl from 2, Clarrise, I think, earning me a defensive shove and a visit with the ground. I quickly get up, and my district partner laughs.

"You sure I haven't shown up yet?" Valentine says.

I sigh, but I find the sides of my lips going up. "Fine. At least don't make me jump into someone, ok?"

I size up Districts 1 and 2. I'll note more of their weaponry strengths and whatnot in the training center, but this seems like a pretty good Career pack, if not slightly normal.

Feeling that I want to head back to my chariot, I say, "Can't wait to work together out there," and then walk away. Valentine stays and chats for a little more, but I don't pay too much attention. There will be more time to talk later.

* * *

 **Just note that if the chronology in the future until the end of the trains seems out of whack, it's because I'm actually trying to go true-forwards in time, instead of apparent-forwards in time, if that makes sense. So districts that I think are farther out from the Capitol will lag behind some compared to ones closer. Not sure if timegaps like this will actually happen, but doesn't hurt to note them. :)**

 **Also, I'm actually really sorry that I completely forgot about this after school started. Unfortunately, I can't guarantee another one until summer break. I'm really busy holding straight A's. (Yo, 100.5 average finals rocks!)**


End file.
